#I’ve had my cat since I was 7 I barely remember life without her so this is not fun at all

[nix-that-rad-lass]

Legit it just keeps going downhill lol

Idk how I’ve made it the like seven years of owning a phone I have without shattering a screen until now but I did it

[ohnoseptember]

birthday (blues) / that time of the year i feel like i am at the bottom of the pit

I turn 23 in 8 days. I’m counting friends like money, I’ve got barely any of either. One best friend I’ve had since school, 7 years of her and I. We’re making plans, but I’m too nervous to say the wrong thing and upsetting her. The second my phone starts dinging with notifications continuously, I immediately pick it up, too afraid to respond to her a little too late and have her mad at me. Or too afraid to miss my father’s death when he lives an hour too long from my place. I’m too nervous to say the wrong thing to the person I say is the love of my life too. In the 2 years I’ve known of him, I’ve always bit my tongue and held back so much. I’ve questioned within if I ever made the right choice marrying him in front of a thousand people on a hot Sunday afternoon. In all honesty, I don’t even remember if it was a Saturday or Sunday. 

Your 20s are supposed to be about liberation and freedom, about loving, losing and learning. My 20s have become about suppressing memories and forgetting everything from yesterday, from a year back, from 5 years back. I don’t remember my wedding, or my graduation. All I remember lately is the people I loved, how much I loved them, how I lost them and this I don’t need to remember because it happens daily, but the hurt from losing them. I remember my cat, being 16 and its parcel of truths and the words to songs I heard first a decade back.

Your 20s are supposed to be about living fearlessly, risking it all and growing. My 20s have become about immediately apologising for mistakes I made and mistakes I didn’t, apologising immediately after a fight that lasts a total of 3 minutes, apologising for being too early or too late. My 20s have become about being too afraid to end the call with my mom without saying I love her, too afraid to sleep upset with the man who won’t remember why I got mad in the first place by the time he wakes up, too afraid to step out of my house and wanting to stay alone all the time. 

I’m counting health issues like regrets, I’ve got plenty of both. Jobs, houses, kids and I feel too young to be wondering about any of this. A loveless marriage where I blow my candles in secret because he has decreed that "birthday" is a forbidden word, and an illicit affair that only sees me when the whole city sleeps and the only sound is of the keys unlocking the gate, they go hand in hand it seems.

Every year, September comes and I see people I look up to celebrate their lives, their art. I am reminded why I love this month so much, the joy of sharing a month with people who don’t know me but I feel like I’ve known them my whole life, the despair of turning older but not any happier, the happiness of being safe, secure and a family that loves me, the grief of all the piling regrets and unaccomplished resolutions and goals. 

It’s tiring being 23 already, and I’ve still got 8 days left. 

I’ll make more resolutions, and tell myself it’ll get better although my brain has convinced itself it won’t. It doesn’t know what "better" is. 

Maybe this is as good as it gets, and if it is, I’ll be grateful regardless. I’ll learn to be grateful. 

And if it’s meant to get better, I’ll wait patiently and pray I make the right choices. 

The number 23 feels scary, daunting, mournful and no good emotions so far. I don't want to be alone for what feels like a walk through a horror house. I'm not, I'll tell myself. I'll read myself bedtime stories, dream of more tales when I make my own birthday cake, and come up with cliffhangers as I cook my birthday dinner.

I'll be eating alone on a Friday night at home, I'll hear jazz and I'll sleep early.

This is 23, my loneliness loves it and hates it.

[colinpants]

11/14/2023 (in defense of time machines)

five years ago today, we were still trying, me and my ex wife… but the end was in sight. we opened a bank account in a new town, with almost nothing to put in it except stubbornness and hope and a genuine desire to make one another happy… but it was too late.

 I wonder if you still have that account, just without my name, just like the dog and the cats and the bed (which pre-dated my presence in your life anyway) and the illnesses and the loneliness. I’m truly sorry I contributed to the loneliness. I’m sorry I couldn’t love your illnesses away. I miss feeling like your family. I miss the dog. I really fuckin miss the cats. At least with you, I got to say goodbye.

Three years ago almost to the day, my mom sent me a late birthday message on a service I have never checked until today. There were pictures of me, as a toddler mostly. Little grinning ginger kid, still kinda chubby from the baby fat, and this smiling, happy-in-spite-of-life woman that I barely recognized. With it was this message:

“Just in case I only sent two pics…”

(There were 8, she isn’t great with tech) “… you were my whole world even though it didn’t seem like it. Love you, mom.”

I’m so sorry I didn’t see that sooner, didn’t reach out and tell you that it’s okay, I always knew. The only thing I ever wondered, honestly, was what broke you so bad that all that love came out as appetite, as hunger, as need… broke you so bad you couldn’t even remember to feed me. The people who raised me instead did not love me nearly as much as you did. Little Me thought the trade-off would be worth it, that the regular meals and good grades and church services and bed times would be better in the long run than the hugs and the giggles and the dreaming and the distance in between those things, that it would make me normal so I could be a part of the world with everyone else…. But it wasn’t. it was a bad trade. I’m a 40-year-old boy who is too lonely and broken and fragile to take any part of this world, and I just want my mama back.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all that, and I’m not sure I have it in me to actually say it now. I’m sorry I left to get clean, I’m sorry I didn’t stay and help you too, I’m sorry I used all the money I made in my grocery career on weed and video games and not helping you pay rent. I’m sorry that you’re 75 and living in a motel and losing your memories and fire, and I’ve been telling people you were dead for years to cover up anxiety attacks when I should have just been sitting with you. I’m sorry I couldn’t love your pain away. I miss you, and all the family dogs we had, and even Terry. I really hope I make it over there. I bet you’ll see all of this on my face.

7 years ago, I got a call while I was in the middle of a stressful shift at the Tamarac Whole Foods: it was time. Mamaw was going, and she was asking for me. My mind flashed back to me at 17, cold and alone and vulnerable, begging her to take me in… and the coldness in her voice when she said no. It didn’t flash back to the road trips or the mountain days or the summer camps or the constant stream of books and museum trips and knowledge that you were always cramming into me. It didn’t flash back to how bad it hurt when I lost you the first time, when you didn’t want me anymore and wouldn’t say why, nor the endless arguments about God and faith and why none of it made sense to me (I was 11, nothing made sense anyway). I made excuses, begged forgiveness, and went back to work. But I’ve also thought of you every day since. I am constantly wondering if you would be proud of me. It’s hard to imagine, you were always so stern, but… maybe.

I’ll always wish I’d said goodbye.

[bokunosimpfiction]

Demon!Dimitrescux Reader

Synopsis: Lady Dimitrescu reveals herself as a demon that has made it her personal mission to guard you after what you believe is the case of worst/best timing of your entire life. No trigger warnings. 1.6k words.

A/N: This took me less than two hours to write/publish this. I needed this out of my system ASAP

             The black Toyota Corolla had to look strangely familiar your first pass down the street. It reminded you of your boyfriend’s car, and you swore that the digits of the license plate must have been one or two off his, and the generic pine tree air freshener must have been a different color. Not to mention the woman in the backseat with a cocktail dress on.

             You chose not to think about it as you walked into the 7-11 in nothing but your pajamas and the pair of crocs you haven’t worn since being on the college swim team. It wasn’t hard to decide what to grab off the shelves. A bag of chips store brand sour patch kids and gummy worms, a two-liter of Pepsi, and a bottle of wine too big for one person. The cashier looked just as tired as you did, and you understood what it was like, barely, time is a social construct that distanced you deeply from the night shifts you pulled at this same store while in college. Nine to five shifts (Dolly Parton shifts, your coworker would call them with a smile) were only better because you could sit down and have a stable sleep schedule. It was the same grueling work, and in your case, you had to deal with the same shitty people that complained about things you can’t control.

             His droning voice pulled you out of your train of thoughts. “The total is forty-eight fifty-seven.” He was either crying in the backroom while you were picking out your chips or hit a massive dab, you weren’t sure, but his red eyes made either option feasible. You didn’t comment on it, only handing him two twenties and a ten and taking the change back before walking out the door. You didn’t say anything to him, and vice versa, which you appreciated because you didn’t have the energy to deal with a chatty Kathy right now. And as you pull yourself down the street, your bag of crap from 7-11 in your hand, you pass that same deja-vu-mobile and look at the stickers on the back.

             The same I love my dog and proud cat-dad stickers in the exact same place, the dent on the right side of the bumper, and the license plate that was in fact, one hundred percent his. Which begs the question, who was the girl in the cocktail dress, and what was she doing in the backseat? The question didn’t matter for long because the car promptly burst into flames. Oh well. Wait.

The.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

             It’s your boyfriend’s car.

Your

Boyfriends.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

             You wipe out your phone to call the fire department when you see the girl in the same cocktail dress crawl out of the car, dress pulled up to her waist, barefoot and mascara streaming down her face. She’s violently beating his clutch against the ground, desperate to put out the flames while your boyfriend slams the door open on the other side and throws himself out full force onto the asphalt of the busy street. He looks up and sees the anger in your eyes.

             “Hey, babe.”

             “I-I-can-” he stutters violently. His face was red in anger and blood dripping from his nose due to the face-first collision with the freshly paved street.

             “We’re over.”

             You do him the favor of calling the fire department for his car and walk off as soon as you hear the sirens of the firetruck. You didn’t have anything to do with it. No need to watch the fallout when you had nothing to do with the disaster. Besides, your soda’s getting cold, you wanted to drink that before it got Luke-warm. You ended up dropping off the crap and walking to the 24-7 grocery store a little farther in the other direction to get ice cream. Standing in the frozen aisle, in nothing but your pajamas, bright red crocs, and moist eyes, you try and decide between the weird, nuanced flavors that all taste like vanilla anyhow.

             You look up towards the top shelf when you notice the woman leaning over you. She’s deathly pale, skin as pale as paper and lipstick so red it glowed compared to everything else. Her huge hat would make a shadow on her face if it weren’t propped right above her hairline.

             “So, did you enjoy the show sweet-heart,” she whispers in your ear. You feel her breath on your neck and her gaze freezes your heart. “You didn’t think that his car catching on fire was a happy accident now did you?”

             You turn around, only not to see her behind you, but on the fogged-up glass doors on the other side of the aisle. “Did you really think that I’d be standing right behind you?” Her question is almost taunting.

             “Who are you?”

             She breathes into her elegant pipe only to blow out to re-fog the glass before staring dead into your eyes and saying the words that changed your life forever. “I’m your guardian demon.”

             You honestly thought you were losing your mind, seeing this woman in the glass, telling you she was a demon who set your ex’s car on fire. (It felt odd to call him that, you had been dating him for three years). Her elegant leg steps through the glass, her dress riding up to just below her knee before it hit the ground and the rest of her flowed into our realm as smoothly as her dress swayed when she walked over to you.

             She was almost twice your height, and the view from where she stood in front of you made her feel even more so tall. “So mortal, what do you have to say, knowing that you have a five-hundred-year-old all-powerful demon protecting you?”

             “What happened to my guardian angel?”

             She scoffs. “You never had one. Most people nowadays have guardian angels, in fact, I’ve only heard of one other mortal who hasn’t had one that’s alive right now.”

             “What do you mean?” You can’t help but ask. There’s an entire world of things you didn’t understand. Angels. Demons. Hell, even bigfoot could be real for all you know.

             “Well, darling, there is a very simple answer to that question: there are only so many angels for so many mortals, and so sometimes a few slip through the cracks of the system, and that’s where we step in.” She moves around to the refrigerator next to you and inspects the sorbets. “Despite what the church tells you, us demons love humans. They’re a claim to social status. You bring a human home, and you’re viewed as wealthy, famous even.”

             “So that’s what you get out of taking a person’s soul in a deal.”

             She turns to you. “When I what now?”

             “Ya’ know,” you say, “a person makes a deal with a demon in exchange for money or fame, and when they die their soul belongs to the demon and they’re doomed to eternal hell yada-yada-yada.”

             “Is that what they’re teaching you, now.”

             “At least that’s what my mother says. I didn’t really believe in any of this stuff till you stepped out of the door and said you set my ex’s car on fire.”

             “I would have done it sooner, but you looked so happy with him, it was difficult to pull that away from you,” she sighs before standing up to her full height, “that woman he was with was going to give you HPV and I’d prefer the human I fought tooth and nail over to not get an STD. I would never have let that stupid-man-thing touch you had I known he would cheat on you with a mortal so… infected.” What an interesting word to decide to land on.

             She turns and waltzes back across the aisle with a grace that has long been lost to time. “And besides, you’re better off without him, with him off your mind you’ll be able to take that new project on at work and get that raise you’ve been needing so badly.”

             You’re still trying to process this. “You mentioned that you only heard of one other mortal with a demon guardian. Who is he?”

             “His name doesn’t matter, all I really care about is that damn man-child, Heisenberg, is watching him, which means he won’t be alive much longer.”

             “Do you kill us?”

             She puts her hand to her chest and looks genuinely offended before her features soften when she realizes you had never met a demon in your entire life not to mention even believing in them. “We would never. Our humans are like our children, and while we may not be able to subtle pull strings to protect those that we watch over, we do have our more… direct ways of protecting them.”

             “Like setting his car on fire.”

             “I’ve done worse things to keep you safe.”

             Your face pales, but your curiosity brightens your eyes. “Like what?”

             “Your so demand, child, but remember when lightning struck the tree in your backyard, and it fell and landed on your neighbor fifteen or so years ago?”

             You can’t formulate words.

             “Or how your car broke down on the side of the road so you couldn’t reach the hotel you booked?”

             “You did that!”

             “They were going to steal your luggage!” She scoffs before taking a long drag from her pipe. “Anymore, questions?”

             “Is Jesus real?”

             “I wasn’t there for that, and if he was, he hasn’t left his fluffy little sky bed since being nailed to that goddamn cross.”

             “One more.”

             “It better not be stupid, darling.”

             “What ice cream should I get?”

             Her soft smile returns. “Get the java-chip, but the one right behind the front one, there’s a little extra than usual in that container.”

[over300books]

Interview tag game!!

Thank you for the tag, @alifletcher2012 !!! I really loved doing this one 🥰 (I made a new post bc that was already very long)

Nickname: Estelinha (aka little Estela in portuguese) or Nephila (in my college, people are baptized with a new nickname when they enter, mine is the latin gender of a huge spider who lives all around the campus and I got it because I'm terrified of spiders lmao)

Pronouns: she/her

Star sign: gemini

Height: 1.59 m (i won't convert to feet bc I'm lazy)

Time currently: 8:05 am

Birthday: june 20th

Favorite groups/bands: Paramore, Queen, X Ambassadors, Anavitória, Panic! at the Disco, Barbatuques, Pentatonix...

Favorite solo artist: i have no idea dhshsjsk probably Pabllo Vittar or Bruno Mars at the moment

Song stuck in my head: Amarelo, Azul e Branco by Anavitória

Last movie you watched: Zack Snyder's Justice League

Last show you binged: Brooklyn 99, again 😅

When you created your blog: i don't remember, but i think it was in 2011/2012

Last thing i googled: where to buy a Kirby glass, but sadly it's only available in Japan :(

Other blogs: nope

Why I chose my url: I've always loved reading and back then I was at the exact age to love showing off to my friends, so I made a list of all the books I had read so far and it was more than 300, and i created a tumblr to see fanarts of books, so that's that

Do you get asks: a few, but always treasured 🥰

How many people you are following: no idea hdhsjsksk probably over 1k accumulated over the years

How many followers: a little over 400, i think? But i do believe most are porn bots smh

Average hours of sleep: 6-7 when I'm lucky, anxiety and insomnia are bitches

Lucky number: 4 or 11, both were my numbers on my volleyball team

Instruments: does my voice count? Other than that, I know how to play one (1) song on the guitar and one (1) on the piano, but I would love to learn to play drums, bass or the cello

Currently wearing: Felix the Cat summer pjs

Dream job: dhdkslskd i wish i knew, probably book editor or scientist 🤷

Dream trip: literally anywhere since I've barely left my house in more than a year, but I'd love to know Germany atm

Favorite food: stroganoff 😋 or brigadeiro

Favorite song: changes too often for me to keep track lmao probably today's is Leave the Door Open or Gas Pedal

Top 3 fictional worlds to live in: ??????? I literally have no clue, i find life in this one hard enough already without any magical creatures or monsters other than men hdjsjakal

Tagging (no pressure!!!): @oloreaa @thewayshedreamed @javisjeanjacket @dincrypt @mndalorians @bestintheparsec @pedropascaldice @keeper0fthestars @corvueros @dinthisisthe-wayson @flightlessangelwings plus anyone else who wants to (I'd love to know all of my frens better, and i have the memory of a goldfish, so that's it)

[trashcanband4]

The Revelation of the Other Woman Ch. 16

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15

Chapter Title: Settling in.  Pairing: Daryl/oc. Setting: The Prison. Wordcount: 4,837. Warning: None that I can thing of.

 After Rick, Daryl and Merle got safely inside the gates we all gathered in the cell block. Daryl, Carol and Beth stood on the perch and catwalk above while Michonne, Glenn, Rick, Maggie, Carl and I stood on the ground below. Hershel sat on the stairs. Merle was locked in the holding room. “We're not leaving.” Rick spoke with finality.

“We can't stay here.” Hershel argued the same case he had been arguing.

“What if there's another sniper?” Maggie asked. “A wood pallet won't stop one of those rounds.”

“We can't even go outside.” Beth spoke up as if what she said wasn't already understood by everyone.

“Not in the daylight.” Carol added.

“Rick says we're not running. We're not running.” Glenn spoke up still playing the part of leader even though Rick was back.

“No, better to live like rats.” Merle spoke up through the bar door holding him back from the rest of us.

“You got a better idea?” Rick asked him.

“Yeah, we should have slid out of here last night and lived to fight another day. But we lost that window, didn't we?” Merle asked. “I'm sure he's got scouts on every road out of this place by now.”

“We ain't scared of that prick.” Daryl spoke up from the catwalk, but I didn't even bother looking at him.

“Y'all should be. That truck through the fence thing? That was just him ringing the dinner bell. We might have some thick walls to hide behind, but he's got the guns and the numbers. And if he takes the high ground around this place, shoot, he could just starve us out if he wanted to.” As much as I hated to admit it, Merle had a point.

“Let's put him in the other cell block.” Maggie said ringing a rag in her hands.

“No. He's got a point.” Daryl said.

“This is all you. You started this!” Maggie yelled at Merle who wasn't affected by it.

“What's the difference whose fault it is?” Beth spoke up loudly. “What do we do?”

“I said we should leave. Now Axel's dead. We can't just sit here.” Hershel said for the millionth time and Rick started to walk off. “Get back here!” he yelled at the ex-cop who stopped, but didn't turn to look at the old man. “You're slipping Rick. We've all seen it. We understand why. But now is not the time. You once said this is not a democracy. Now you have to own up to that. I put my family's life in your hands. So get your head clear and do something.”

After Hershel yelled at Rick he just stared at him for a second then walked off. With him gone, people scattered. Most went to their cell's so that's what I did as well. I wiped the dust off of the metal mirror and looked at myself for the first time in months. Dark circles shadowed my eyes, my skin was darker than it used to be from the amount of sun I'd gotten during the winter and my hair had grown two inches, now touching my shoulders. I didn't look like the me I remembered. I was still studying myself when I heard someone clear their throat and looked over to see Daryl standing with his arm propped up on the door frame.

A pain shot through my chest at the way he was looking at me. With hard eyes and straight lips that gave nothing away. He was different than I remembered, everyone was. I guess we'd all changed over the winter. “Whatever you're selling I don't want any.” I told him emotionlessly and crossed my arms over my chest.

“That your way of tellin' me to go away?” he asked quietly.

“If you're going to call me more names...yeah. That's exactly what I'm telling you.” I said as I sat down on my bed, pulled my legs up and hugged my knees to my chest.

“I ain't good at sayin' sorry.” he said quietly looking more like his old self.

“Good then don't say it. 'Cause I don't want to hear it.” I practically growled at him still hugging my knees to my chest.

“Joanna, I really am-”

“No.” I interrupted him letting go of my knees to scoot to the edge of the bed. “You don't get it. I dreamed about you. Every night that we weren't together was another dream that had you in it.” His face flushed at my words and it was cute, but it didn't put a damper on my anger. “At first they were nightmares. I blamed you for me getting left behind and stuck with that bitch Andrea. But then I realized that you told me to stay behind because you wanted me to be safe and I stopped being mad at you. The nightmares turned to good dreams. I would be hunkered down in a house somewhere and you would find me or vice versa.” my voice was shaking holding back tears. “We would find each other, you would wrap those amazing arms of yours around me and give me the best kiss of my life.” a tear slid down my cheek as I watched him cross his arms over his chest and lean back against the wall.

“Then imagine my surprise when my wildest dream came true. You found me, hugged me and kissed me and...” I closed my eyes and smiled sadly at the memory of his arms around me and his lips on mine. “Damn it that felt heavenly.” I opened my eyes and let the smile fade as I glared at him again. “So stupid me, I think that means you actually missed me as much as I missed you, that you wanted me back. But then your brother comes in the picture and you no longer give a damn about me. I'm just some weak, uppity, booty call. And you leave.” my eyes glared at his hand to his mouth, chewing on his cuticles. “That hurt.” I glared at him with tears slipping down my cheeks. “I never thought you would hurt me. So don't expect me to jump into your arms at the first “I'm sorry.” because it ain't gonna happen.”

He just stared at me for a second as if he were trying to think of something to say before he nodded and walked out. A few minutes later I heard people talking down stairs, practically under my cell so I walked out on the catwalk to see what was going on. “I didn't see any snipers out there, but we'll keep Maggie on watch.” Rick said to everyone.

“I'll get up in the guard tower, take out half them walkers, give these guys a chance to fix the fence.” Daryl suggested.

“Or use some of the cars to put the bus in place.” Michonne suggested.

“We can't access the field without burning through out bullets.” Hershel added.

“So we're trapped in here. There's barely any food or ammo. Glenn added not helping one bit. Honestly his negativity was grating to everyone.

“We've been here before. We'll be all right.” Daryl tried.

“That's when it was just us. Before there was a snake in the nest.” Glenn directed at Daryl.

“Man, we gonna go through this again?” Daryl asked, getting in Glenn's face. ?Look, Merle's staying here. He's with us now. Get used to it.” he looked up at me then at the rest of the group. “All y'all.”

“Seriously, Rick, I don't think Merle-” Glenn started, but I interrupted him.

“Just stop it Glenn.” I spoke up from the cat walk as Daryl came up the stairs. “No one likes him being here, but as much as I hate to admit it, we need him. He knows The Governors tactics and he has military training. So just get off your high horse and deal with it.”

Glenn looked from me to Rick. “I can't kick him out.” Rick said with a shake of his head.

Rick's words seemed to piss Glenn off even worse than mine did. “I wouldn't ask you to live with Shane after he tried to kill you.” Glenn's words pulled a look out of Rick and I tilted my head at Glenn's words. Shane tried to kill Rick?

“He may be erratic, but don't underestimate his loyalty to his brother.” Hershel defended.

“What if we solve two problems at once?” Glenn asked. “Deliver Merle to the Governor. Bargaining chip. Give him his traitor, maybe declare a truce.”

“No.” I said as I walked down the stairs to be a better part of the conversation. “We're sacrificing people now?” I asked with a twisted faced look at Glenn. “Delivering him to The Governor will be no different than leaving him on that roof to die. We couldn't do that back then and we can't do this now.”

“Who put you in charge?” Glenn asked.

I leaned back and raised my brows. “I could ask you the same question mister high and mighty.”

“Guys, cut it out.” Hershel cut off our building argument. “Look, Glenn, Joanna's right. That's not who we are.”

“We're not gonna figure this out now. Let's take a break.” Rick suggested and Glenn and Hershel walked off. Rick jerked his head for me to follow him to his cell so I did. “What all happened out there over the winter? I know you said Michonne found you two while you were running from the farm, but I don't know much more than that.” he asked as he sat down on his bed.

I sat down in the chair in the room with a sigh. “Not a whole lot up until Woodbury. I answered vaguely. Just a lot of running, scavenging and hunkering down for as long as we could. Michonne and I are pretty good friends, we don't communicate a lot, but we work well together. She and Andrea got closer though.” I said with a shrug.

“What about you and Andrea?” he asked looking curious.

“Oh we still hate each other as much as we always did, if not more now.” I said with a small laugh before it faded. “Bitches can't befriend bitches I guess.”

“You're not a bitch.” he said with a shake of his head.

“Really? Because I feel like one after the things I just said to Daryl.” I said looking up from the floor to his blue eyes. I had forgotten how blue they were and the fact that I was apparently a sucker for them. His and Daryl's... the same color yet so different. “But that doesn't matter. What about you and the rest of the group? There's some things I've been wondering since I got here.”

“Like what?” he asked and I sat up straighter.

“Like I hear Shane tried to kill you?” I asked and he nodded with a sigh.

“The night the walkers came through and we all got separated, he killed Randall to lure me into the woods and kill me.” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I killed him first.” he said before his dropped his hand and looked at me. I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. “He wanted Lori, thought killing me was the only way to get her and Carl.”

“I'm sorry you had to do that.” I said and he waved me off. “So... I have to ask based off the way Beth spoke to me, did you and Lori ever work things out?”

He shook his head no. “What did Beth say to you?”

“She blames me for Lori's death.” he just tilted his head in confusion. “I guess she thinks that if I had never...been, with you that you and Lori would have been happier. I guess in her mind if you two were happier then you would have been there to save her or something.”

Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Those aren't only her thoughts...” when he lifted his head to look at me I tilted my head to the side in a questioning manner. “She's just copying what I've heard Carl say.”

“Wait, Carl's mad at me too?” I asked getting tired of being everyone's whipping post.

“Yeah.” Rick sighed and dropped his hand from his face. “He didn't put two and two together until recently...after Lori...”

“I don't know how to handle this... Should we talk to him, try to explain things?” I asked as I shook my head in confusion.

“No, I'll talk to him and Beth. You don't deserve all that hate.” he said as he stood up.

“No, I think it's totally justified.” I sighed as I stood up as well. “I'm a home wrecker.”

“You know that's not true. Lori and I had our problems long before you even came along.” he said taking a step closer to grab my hand.

“I know, but...” I said giving his hand a small squeeze. When I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye I looked out of the cell to see Daryl walk by and glance in our direction. His stopped when he saw Rick's hand in mine and shook his head. I could hear a scoff as he walked off.

I dropped Ricks hand and scratched the back of my head. “What else have you been wondering about since you got back?”

“Daryl and Carol.” I said crossing my arms over my chest

“What about them?” he asked.

“She seemed really upset to hear that he didn't come back and then she blamed me for him leaving like I pushed him into it or something.” I said and he just looked at me. “Are they...together?” I cautiously asked.

“Honestly, I don't know. It's hard to tell with him.” Rick answered with a shoulder shrug. “You'll have to ask one of them.” I sighed and placed my head in my hands. He placed his hand on my back. “Hey,” I looked up at him and he gave me a small smile, “If I hadn't said it yet I'm glad you're alive.”

I gave him a small smile in return and he engulfed in a hug. “I'm glad you're alive too.” I said with a small laugh then pulled out of the hug. His hands lingered on my neck and mine on his sides. In a split second every tender intimate moment we'd ever had flooded my mind. Then came the bad memories and all the arguments. That made me remember why I chose Daryl, why I love Daryl more than anything or anyone. So I let him go and gave him a sad smile. “Thanks for filling me in. I'm gonna go to my cell and try to process things.” he let me go without a word.

Daryl's cell was on the way to mine and Carol's voice made me stop just outside of it. “This is a tomb.” I heard Daryl say as I made sure I couldn't be seen by them.

“That's what T-dog called it. I thought he was right till you found me.” Carol said and it got quiet for a few seconds. “He's your brother, but he's not good for you. Don't let him bring you down. After all, look how far you've come.” she said making him laugh. God how I'd missed that sound. It got quiet and I was about to go to my cell when Carol's words stopped me. “I've never thought Joanna was good for you either. She's too weak, those panic attacks of hers...they'll only slow you down and make you weak.” I felt my teeth grind together as I bit down, forcing back more tears and made myself walk by as if I hadn't heard a thing.

About an hour later I heard some one approach my cell and I thought it would be Daryl or Rick, but instead, it was Merle. “What do you want?” I asked sitting up to pull my knees to my chest.

“Just thought that if we're gonna be under the same roof, we should clear the air.” he stated and I just stared at him. “The whole hunting you two down thing... that was just business. Carrying out orders.”

“Sure, whatever, just don't hurt my people.” I said and he just smirked at me. “What?”

“Good taste.” he answered making me immediately think of what he said back at Woodbury. How his brother had good taste. He just smirked again as he walked away.

I was still in my cell when I heard Rick yell for Daryl, Merle and some others to join him outside because Andrea had been spotted. So I ran out behind Michonne and watched as Rick let her in a treated her like the traitor she was. He pushed her to her knees and took her things before she confirmed that she was alone and she was eventually let into the prison, but just the holding room. Andrea greeted Carol first. “Hershel, oh my god.” she sighed, spotting the old man's lack of a limb. “I can't believe this.” she said as she looked around the room and let go of Carol. “Where's Shane?” he asked still looking around the room before she looked at Rick.

“Why should you care? You're sleeping with The Governor now right?” I asked earning a glare from her before she looked at Rick who simply shook his head and looked away from her.

“And Lori?” she asked and Rick just gave her a hard look.

“She had a girl. Lori didn't survive.” Hershel spoke up.

“Neither did T-Dog.” Maggie added and I made a mental note to find out exactly how he died.

“I'm so sorry.” she said before her eyes landed on Carl. “Carl...” the boy just glared at her sympathy. Then she turned to Rick. “Rick I-” she started to walk over to Rick but he backed away from her. So she looked around the room at other people. “You all live here?”

“Here and the cell block.” Glenn answered.

“There?” she asked pointing to the door to the cell block. “Well, can I go in?” she asked.

Rick stepped in her way. “I won't allow that.”

“I'm not the enemy here, Rick.” Andrea defended.

“No you're just sleeping with the enemy.” I said and this time she didn't even look at me.

“We had that field and courtyard until your boyfriend tore down the fence with a truck and shot us up.” Rick said still standing in her way.

“He said you fired first.” Andrea defended.

I wanted to point out that he was a liar, but I knew I wasn't the person to point that out. She wouldn't listen to me. She never did. “Well, he's lying.” Rick answered and she just stared at him.

“He killed an inmate who survived in here.” Hershel spoke up.

“We liked him. He was one of us.” Daryl said making her attention turn to him.

“I didn't know anything about that.” Andrea said with a head shake. “As soon as I found out I came. I didn't even know you were in Woodbury until after the shoot-out.” she said looking around at everyone.

“That was days ago.” Glenn said and now I agreed with his angry tone.

“I told you I came as soon as I could.” Andrea defended herself and looked around at everyone just to be met with glares and looks of mistrust. She turned to me “What have you told them?” she asked angrily.

“I didn't have to tell them anything.” I said from where I sat at the metal picnic table.

“You poisoned them with lies about me.” she yelled.

“She hasn't bad mouthed ya.” Daryl of all people defended me from where he sat at the table across the room from me.

“I don't get it. I left Atlanta with you people and now I'm the odd man out?” she asked getting mad at everyone.

“He almost killed Michonne and he would have killed us.” Glenn started.

“With his finger on the trigger.” Andrea yelled with a point at Merle. “Isn't he the one who kidnapped you? Who beat you?” she asked then sighed and placed her head in her hands for a second. “I cannot excuse or explain what Philip has done. But I am trying to bring us together. We have to work this out.”

“There's nothing to work out.” Rick said cutting her off. “We're gonna kill him. I don't know how or when, but we will.”

“We can settle this.” she said taking a step closer to Rick.

“God, Andrea!” I yelled at her. “When are you going to open those ignorant eyes of yours and realize that there is no settling this. He will not stop until we are dead, that is just the kid of man he is. Merle kidnapped us, but it was under the orders of your boy toy. He is sick and twisted.” I said walking over to get in her face.

“There is room at Woodbury for you.” she said not giving up on the idea of peace.

“You're blind as a freaking bat.” I scoffed and walked back to the table.

“There's room for all of you.” she said looking around at everyone now.

Merle laughed at her. “You know better than that.”

“What makes you think this man wants to negotiate?” Hershel asked. “Did he say that?”

“No.” Andrea answered.

“Then why did you come here?” Rick asked.

“Because he's gearing up for war. The people are terrified. They see you as killers. They're training to attack.” Andrea warned.

“I'll tell you what. Next time you see Philip, you tell him I'm gonna take his other eye.” Daryl warned back.

“We've taken too much shit for too long.” Glenn spoke up. “He wants a war? He's got one.”

Andrea turned to Rick. “Rick? If you don't sit down and try to work this out, I don't know what's gonna happen. He has a whole town.” she heaved out a breath as she turned toward us. “Look at you. You've lost so much already. You can't stand alone anymore.”

“You want to make this right, get us inside.” Rick said walking around her to be in her line of sight.

“No.” Andrea said shaking her head rapidly.

“Then we got nothing to talk about.” Rick walked around her.

“There are innocent people.” she yelled after him trying to get him to stop.

With Rick gone Michonne and Andrea went outside to talk. So with her out of the way I went back to my cell.

I don't know when she left, I didn't go see her off like everyone else did. I didn't even leave my cell until I heard everyone getting together down stairs and the smell of warm food hit my nose. It turned out to just be rice, cooked with a chicken bullion cube for flavor. It wasn't much, but I sat on the floor next to Michonne to eat it. Not long after I finished my bowl Beth started singing. After listening to the song enough to recognize a pattern and pick up the chorus I started to sing along. “You gotta hold on, hold on. You gotta hold on. Take my hand I'm standin' right here. You gotta hold on.” I sang back up catching a few people's attention, but I didn't look at them. Beth glared at me, but I ignored her too. She wasn't going to put a damper on my fun.

When the song was over most people turned in for the night. So I followed suit. As I passed Daryl's cell he spoke up, stopping me. “So it's you and Rick again, huh?”

I stopped and leaned my back against the frame of his door. "Maybe." I replied with a shoulder shrug.

"I ain't interested in none of your games." He practically growled as he sat up on the side of his bunk.

"Are you and Carol together?" I finally asked and he looked at me like I was crazy. "She was more broken up about you leaving the group than everyone else and people around here seem to put your names together a lot. On top of that you two were close at the farm, so what am I supposed to expect when I find you." I explained deciding to leave out the fact that I heard her badmouthing me and Daryl didn't defend me. He just stared at me, biting his nails. “Was I supposed to expect you to just wait around for me to show up out of the blue? I mean as much as I missed you and longed to be with you I supposed you would move on at some point.”

"Did you move on?" He answered flatly.

“Oh, yeah, didn't you hear? Andrea, Michonne and I got real cozy on the road together.” I popped off and he rolled his eyes at me with a scoff. “No, I didn't.” I answered truthfully. “Have you?”

“Na. She's just a friend.” he answered quietly.

“Good.” I told him with a nod and pushed off of the door frame to walk away.

“You gonna give me a straight answer 'bout you and Rick?” he asked stopping me and I turned to see that he had stood up.

“He's just a friend.” I answered with a sigh. “Now if you don't mind I'd like to get some sleep.” I started once again to walk off but he grabbed my hand pulling me to a stop.

“Sleep here.” he suggested, not dropping my hand.

“Why, so I can be your booty call?” I asked sarcastically.

He bit his lip and shook his head. “Cause I love ya, Woman.”

“W-what?” I asked too shocked for his words to fully sink in.

“Come on, I ain't good at this shit, don't make me say it again.” he practically begged.

What he had done and what he had called me...it was all washed away by those three little words. Three little words that when said separately or with other words between them meant nothing. But when one sentence was composed of just these words they seemed to heal the worst of wounds and mend broken hearts. So what did I do when they finally sank in?

Laughter burst from my lips and I fell back to lean against the door frame again. When I managed to stop laughing I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “Even in my best dreams you never said that.” I whispered then looked at him to see him looking at me like if I rejected him he would crack. “I love you too.”

A smile spread across his lips as he closed the space between us grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into him. The kiss was hard and passionate. A moan escaped my lips when his tongue found mine starting a battle with no winner. His hand moved from the back of my head to grip my sides and lift me up and pin me to that wall. My legs wrapped around his waist and my fingers embedded themselves into his soft hair.

Thirty minutes later we lay on his bed sweaty and breathless, but still tangled together like an unkempt line of string. “How do you do that?” I asked, not looking at him, but comparing the size of our hands instead.

“Do what?” he asked quietly.

“Make me lose my mind but stay perfectly grounded at the same time.” I said and he scoffed at me.

“Ya ain't makin' since.” he grumbled sleepily.

“Yeah, I guess my minds still a little lost.” I chuckled as I dropped his hand and rolled over to look at him. “It has to be, because I feel crazy for giving you a second chance.” I explained, resting my hand on his taunt chest. “I felt something for you before, I wasn't sure what it was, if it was love or lust or if it was just simply trust, and companionship. So when you told me I was nothing to you and chose to leave me, it hurt but I lived. Barely, but I did. And now, after tonight, after we said what we said? You have my heart, you're capable of destroying me.”

“Ain't gonna do that.” he promised, low and gruff as he placed his hand on my cheek and ran his thumb over my cheekbone. “Can't make the same mistake twice.” from my face his hand slid down to my neck where he touched the mark his brother had left on me. “Let's get some sleep, missed havin' ya by my side.”

I smiled to myself as I tuned my back to him and he tossed his arm over my side. “Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Night, Ballerina.”

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[omoi-no-hoka]

Hello! I'm sorry if this has been asked before, but how do you become proficient at handling conversations in Japanese/handling grammar very well? I read your post on the JLPT, and it addressed issues I have been tip toe-ing around--indeed, passive actions such as listening or reading are easier than the active ones. How did you go about that? Did you write a bunch of sentences daily? Did you have a conversation partner? What would you rec. to someone who lives outside Japan? Thank you!

This is an excellent question, and one that I get asked a lot irl by Japanese people in particular. Let’s talk about gaining fluency and the ways we can go about it!

How to Gain Fluency in Japanese (and Other Languages)

Speaking Fluency versus Accuracy

Language proficiency is divided into two separate categories:

Fluency: Although there are no widely agreed-upon definitions or measures of language fluency, someone is typically said to be fluent if their use of the language appears fluid, or natural, coherent, and easy as opposed to slow, halting use. In other words, fluency is often described as the ability to produce language on demand and be understood.

Accuracy: Correctness of language use, especially grammatical correctness and word choice.

By the above definitions, a “fluent” speaker may make grammatical mistakes, but they can speak without having to stop and think too much about conjugations, word choice, etc.

An “accurate” speaker can speak with nearly zero grammatical/word choice mistakes. However, the speed of their utterances isn’t generally taken into account, so it could take an “accurate” person twice as long to articulate the same idea as a “fluent” person. 

Ideally, you need to strike a good balance between these two qualities when speaking. I have a boss, God bless him, who is 100% fluency and 0% accuracy and…man is it hard to understand what he’s saying sometimes, but he can generally get his point across just barely. I have another coworker who is 100% accuracy and takes about 3 minutes to form a sentence because he wants it to be perfect. 

How to Increase Speaking/Writing Accuracy

First, let’s talk about the easiest thing to improve, which is accuracy. It’s also (in my opinion) the least fun thing to improve, because it means grammar books and vocabulary memorization. 

You can only use a language accurately if you know what is correct and what is incorrect, and you can only learn that by studying grammar and vocabulary (or if you’re a native speaker and picked it up innately, you lucky bastard).

So here’s some things you can do to increase your accuracy:

For example, if you’re having a hard time using the passive, you need to review that part of your textbook and find some exercises to drill it into your head. 

Say the correct thing aloud. Lots. Sometimes I just walk around my apartment and narrate everything I see/do like a crazy person, but that’s good practice. 

Write example sentences using the grammar you’re struggling with and say them aloud too. 

There’s a bunch of cool apps that connect you with native speakers that can help correct you too! I used to use HelloTalk, I think. 

If you’re a creative soul, when I was studying for the JLPT, I took 1 grammar point and 5 vocabulary words from my JLPT study books and used them to write a 2-page short story about the adventures of ネギ, a stray black cat that smelled like green onions because she napped in an onion field. Then I had a Japanese friend check it over for me and mark mistakes. I hand-wrote them to improve my abysmal handwriting at the same time. It was really fun! I sometimes think about doing it again just for funsies.

When someone corrects you, don’t feel like your entire life is over and you’re a failure and you’ll never get it right haha. I’ve seen people fall into that hopeless mindset, and that’s just nonsense. It’s a good opportunity for learning and nothing more! Say the correct thing you’ve just been taught out loud, then write it down if you can. And, if possible, find a chance to use it in conversation asap.

How to Increase Speaking/Writing Fluency

Now this is the hard one. Especially for those learners who do not have native speakers nearby. 

I’m going to be dead honest with you. I started formally studying Japanese at uni, and I had a Japanese roommate/best friend since year one. I had a 4.0 GPA in my Japanese classes (and only my Japanese classes lol) because I was and still am a MEGA NERD about it. 

...But it wasn’t until I studied abroad in Japan my 4th year of uni that I gained fluency. 

There are a lot of things that can hold us back from fluency. An interesting thing I’ve noted is that Foreign Language is perhaps the only subject in which a student’s personality can directly affect their progress. To gain fluency, you have to go forth and speak, but if you are naturally a shy person, that is going to hinder you. If you are the kind of person who takes mistakes/failures poorly, you will be less likely to take risks and try to say harder sentences. In contrast, you can get full marks in math regardless of the above personality traits. 

I’m not saying that you have to be an outgoing explosion of a human being in order to gain fluency. But what I am saying is that you have to be willing to seek out conversations, and you have to be willing to take chances. Get out of your comfort zone. Use that new word you picked up the other day. Try to explain something that is difficult for you. 

My problem was that, while I lived with a native speaker who would have happily taught me anything I asked, her English proficiency was much higher than my Japanese proficiency. And when I struggled to say something in Japanese, I’d fall back onto English. And when she told me something I didn’t understand in Japanese, she’d repeat it in English instead of Japanese, because that was easier for us both. The same thing happened when I was in Japanese class as well. I always had the assurance that I could fall back on English.

But when I elected to study abroad in Japan for 3 months, I knew that this was my big chance. So on the host family form in the “other requests” area, I wrote that I specifically wanted a host family that could not speak English. I was setting fire to my crutches, and I was scared but excited to see them burn. 

By the end of my three months in Japan, I had gone from “Chotto matte kudasai” and needing a minute to form my reply, to “Okay, yeah I see that movie too and I liked the action scenes, but I didn’t care for the story little.” (I’ve underlined mistakes that I would have made in Japanese, to show you that I sacrificed some accuracy to obtain higher fluency.)

So, in short, the easiest and quickest way to increase your spoken fluency is to throw away all the crutches you can and use the language as much as possible. Every single day. Even if you’re just having an imaginary conversation with yourself! And like I said, there are a bunch of cool apps that connect you with Japanese people who want to learn English and you can do language exchanges with them. I had a lot of fun with those in the past. 

As for increasing writing fluency...well. That’s a tough question with Japanese, because I can type Japanese at like 100 wpm, but my Japanese handwriting fluency is at a 10/100. I can read and type at the level of a native Japanese high school student, but I can only write the kanji that 7 year old can write. That’s no exaggeration.

The big reason for that dichotomy is that my work is paper-free. 100% of my work is done on screen, so about the only time I have to write out something is when I’m filling out a form, which includes my name (katakana), address, and maybe occupation. 

If you want to increase your Japanese handwriting speed, just keep on writing. Write those little short stories about ネギ like I did, or find some writing prompts (I just started a side-blog with writing prompts yesterday btw) or keep a little diary. Make opportunities to write. 

How to Have Nice Handwriting in Japanese

Okay, full disclaimer: I am the absolute LAST person qualified to talk about this, because I have awful handwriting in Japanese. 

Unless you have prior experience with a different language that uses kanji, or you lack the keen eye of an artist, you will likely struggle to develop neat handwriting. 

Personally, I really like using this app called Japanese Kanji Sensei. It’s on Android (not sure about iOS), and if you pay just a few bucks you can make your own kanji sets and stuff. Anyways, it will show you how to write the characters prettily. It gives you a good frame of reference for what nice, pencil/pen-written characters (versus calligraphy characters). It has hiragana and katakana on it too!

I get a stylus and write out the characters on this app for the muscle memory, so my hands remember the sensation of writing a certain character. (The muscle memory is different if you only use your fingertip.) This muscle memory and repetition is how Japanese people learn how to internalize kanji as well. I really enjoy and recommend this app. I’m sure that there are others out there like it too.

Summary

TL;DR: Review your textbooks, take risks, use every resource available or make your own, and just have fun with it! 💗

[cuddlepilefics]

Every step of the way

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Hyunjin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

TW: cancer (remember this blog is about fluff and comfort, we don’t do sad here....)

No one’s POV.:

It had been almost half a year since that fateful day, the day a doctor told Hyunjin he wasn’t as fine as he always thought. The dancer had pushed the thoughts as far away from himself as possible, maybe if he didn’t acknowledge it, it wouldn’t be true. His mom was the first one who learned about his diagnosis, urging her son to get treatment immediately. The doctor had advised to try chemotherapy first, prescribing a bunch of pills the dancer would have to take for three days in a row, wait for three months and repeat. Planned were four two six cycles, depending on how well the boy would respond to the treatment. Hyunjin’s day to day life now included frequent doctor visits, which he somehow managed to go to in secrecy. He had done two cycles so far and both had left him throwing up for days afterwards. Both times his friends had been there, comforting him and holding his hair out of the way as they tried to help the dancer get over his ‘stomach bug’ quickly. His hyungs prepared him light meals while the youngers cuddled him, not getting tired of the dancer’s movie requests as they watched the same few dramas over and over again with him. Little did they know.

Hyunjin knew he had lost weight, which was a miracle since he didn’t even weigh much to begin with. Dancing which was one of the things he used to enjoy most, suddenly didn’t sound as appealing anymore. His stamina was decreasing and he felt fatigued most of the time, dancing just seemed way too tiresome to be fun. Minho and Felix were the first two to notice their friend not being himself. The dance-line often practiced alone and Hyunjin’s lack of drive soon showed. His dance was lacking the usual energy and he called for water-breaks more frequently. Their concerns were often brushed of with simple statements like ‘I should have gone to bed earlier last night’ or ‘I’ve already practiced earlier’. Changbin had gotten concerned when they were fooling around backstage and he had picked the younger up, noticing how shockingly easy it was. Was the dancer on a diet? He certainly didn’t need to.  

With the next cycle of his therapy approaching, Hyunjin knew he needed to talk to his members. Their schedule was packed and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up. The dancer had dreaded the conversation with his group, having to tell them he wasn’t ok and that he needed a break. He didn’t even know how to do it, the thought of calling a group-meeting making his heart beat loudly and his hands shake. Pulling out his phone, he quickly typed a short message and asked if they could all talk after dinner. That way he wouldn’t be able to chicken out again. It was only a few hours till the other members would come back from their individual practices. Hyunjin had settled for memorizing his lyrics and practicing his rap in the safety and comfort of their dorm. Rubbing at his face and patting his cheeks a few times, he tried to get himself to focus on the lyric sheets in his lap, the letters and words muddling together and losing their meaning as his thoughts were everywhere but on the task on hand.

The time passed a lot faster than expected, and soon there was a knock on the door before Seungmin poked his head in to tell Hyunjin dinner was ready. The dancer sighed, putting his lyric sheets away. He had been less productive than he had hoped he’d be. Sitting down between Seungmin and Changbin, he accepted the plate Chan handed him. The leader had meant well, piling up a generous amount of food. Hyunjin frowned, he didn’t feel too hungry to begin with and the anxious knot twisting in his stomach certainly didn’t help his appetite. Mainly pushing the food around with his chopsticks, the dancer rearranged the words in his head and tried to figure out how he’d start the conversation later. The members noticed him spacing out but left him be, knowing their friend would talk to them later. The majority of the group was already done eating when Hyunjin hadn’t even finished half of his meal. He simply helped clear the table when the others were done, dumping the rest of his food into the trash since he didn’t feel like eating anymore than he had already forced down. “You really didn’t want to eat any more?”, Chan frowned, he didn’t want his dongsaeng getting even skinnier than he already was. The younger shook his head and walked over to the living room couch, sitting down while he waited for the others to join him.

They were all gathered and Chan sensed the nervousness radiating off of his dongsaeng, so as the leader he decided to start: “You wanted to talk to us, Jinnie? Go ahead, you have our attention.” The dancer cleared his throat a few times, scrubbing his sweaty hands against his pants to dry them. “I-I have cancer”, he blurted out, his mind blank and the carefully prepared speech forgotten. There was no reply, just eerie silence. His friends had heard him but were unable to grasp the meaning behind his words. Minho was the first to shake off the shock, patting the younger’s shoulder: “Not too bad, you got me there for a second.” A tear rolled down Hyunjin’s cheek and he shook his head. “Damn, you weren’t joking”, Minho cursed, pulling his dongsaeng into a tight hug. He didn’t want to let go any time soon, so he didn’t. Chan bit his lip, he knew something was up but he didn’t expect this. “We kinda figure something was off about you, just… ohh well. How long has it been?”, he sighed, slowly letting the news sink in. Avoiding the leader’s gaze, the dancer admitted: “’bout half a year. Those last two times I got sick were actually the side effects of the treatment.” Minho let go of him and settled for sitting on the floor against Hyunjin’s legs, which cleared the space for Jisung to come over and cling to his youngest hyung. “I had to tell you now because I’ll have to take the medication again in a few days and it will obviously take me down again for a while like the last times”, he hummed quietly, shuddering at the thought. Chan knelt down next to Minho and squeezed Hyunjin’s hand, assuring: “It’s okay, I’ll talk to our managers. We’ll clear your schedule and you just focus on resting and riding it out, yeah?”, the younger nodded, sniffling quietly as the leader continued, “Should you ever need to go on a hiatus, talk to me, okay? I know our livestyle is stressful and doesn’t allow much time to rest, so if you need a break, we’ll get you one.”

After a long silence, Hyunjin admitted with tears in his eyes: “I’ll probably need to at some point. It’s getting so hard to keep up with you when dancing but what if Stay will think Stray Kids is as good or even better without me?” – “That is not going to happen! Stray Kids is not Stray Kids without you hyung. Stay would want you to take care of yourself, just like we want you to. Do you remember what you told me when my anxiety got really bad? You said ‘there’s no shame in taking a rest, you come first, your job comes second’. Same goes for you too, hyung”, Jisung reminded, “We just want you to be well.” – “It’s j-just, I really loved dancing and now I can barely do it anymore. What if I’m not as good as before when all of this is over”, the older mumbled, playing with his sleeve. Tapping the dancer’s knee from where he was sitting on the ground, Minho spoke up with a firm expression: “Look at me, Jinnie. I’m good at dancing, so I can judge. You have so much natural talent as a dancer, that’s nothing that just suddenly vanishes. Yeah, you might forget about some of the moves but we are all here to remind you again.” Felix nodded along promising: “We’re the dance-line, we work on our dancing together, always have and always will. How many nights have you stayed behind with me to help me get it right, don’t you think I’m willing to do the same for you?” – “Thank you, Lixxie”, he smiled, drying his eyes with his sleeve.

“You got this, Jinnie”, Changbin smiled, ruffling his dongsaeng’s hair. The younger cringed at the touch, pleading: “Please don’t do this, it’s falling out quick enough as it is”, twirling a long strand around his finger he whimpered, “I don’t want to lose it all, I’d be so ugly being bald.” – “Jinnie, look at Chan, for now he has less hair than you. Is he ugly?”, Changbin asked. “Of course, he is!”, Hyunjin joked, snorting and earning an irritated “Excuse me???” from the leader. Changbin just continued, ignoring his hyung: “We’ll simply make sure he’ll dye his hair again for the next comeback, so he’ll lose it faster”, he winked, “and if you feel self-conscious, wear a beanie. We always do. It won’t be so much different and you can also borrow some of mine if you get tired of your own collection. We all know I have an endless number of them, you will always find one that goes with your outfit.” The dancer nodded gratefully while Jisung removed himself from his side, dashing to his room. He was slightly out of breath when he jogged back to the living room, with a black beanie in his hands. Upon further inspection, the older could make out a pair of cat ears on top of it. “Here, I haven’t worn it in an eternity but I thought it would look really good on you”, the rapper announced with sparkling eyes, “Try it on!” Hyunjin complied earning a bush of squeals, while Jisung pinched his cheek exclaiming: “Cute!” The younger fixed it a bit, so it was facing straight, beaming at his hyung: “You should keep it, it looks so much better on you anyways.” – “Thanks, Sungie. But what if I don’t want to walk around the dorm wearing a beanie 24/7?”, the dancer worried. Frowning at his hyung’s insecurity, Jeongin spoke up: “Hyung, you don’t have to hide from us. You are so handsome, you know, there’s a reason you are called prince. What’s on your head won’t change that, plus we care about you, not your hair. To us it doesn’t matter what’s on your head, if you’d walk around with a chicken living up there, we wouldn’t care.” – “Well, I would be mildly concerned if there was a chicken on his head”, Felix’ deep voice cut in. Seungmin tapped his lips, thinking deeply before considering: “I mean, a raven or a snow owl would be fine but a chicken, come on Jeongin, Hyunjin has more style than that.” – “Guys, you don’t get the point”, the maknae whined. “I do, Innie”, Hyunjin chuckled at the heated discussion that broke out about the bird bread that would fit him best, “Thank you.”

It took a few minutes for Chan to calm the maknae-line down, without agreeing on a certain bread. “How long is it till your next treatment?”, the leader asked. Counting in his head, the younger replied: “Four more days or considering today is mostly over, three days.” – “Well, how about we go for sushi during lunch tomorrow? My treat. It’s you favorite, so you can enjoy some delicious food while you can still stomach it”, the oldest offered. An excited smile spread on Hyunjin’s face and he nodded, as it had been a while since he had sushi. “Good, you need to eat well to give your body the energy it needs. You’ve been losing too much weight lately”, Minho approved, nudging his dongsaeng’s knee. Wordlessly walking over, Jeongin dropped himself on Hyunjin’s lap before announcing: “Well, now that that’s settled, as the maknae I call dips on cuddles.” – “Yah! I do not agree with this line of argument!”, Felix yelled frustrated. Soon the entire group was piled up together cuddling their sick dancer. “Thank you, guys. I wouldn’t know what to do without you”, he sniffled getting emotional from all the affection he was receiving. Chan just squeezed him a bit tighter and whispered: “You don’t have to think about that because you will always have us by your side.” – “Promise?” – “Promise! Every step of the way.”

[mimicteruyo]

The Little Teahouse Around the Corner

[Touhou Ship Week Day 7: Free day. KomaEiki + AkyuSuzu, 2.7k, crack/fluff]

---

If described very charitably, the construction before Eiki and Komachi could have been called a teahouse, exactly as the bamboo plank above the entrance claimed it was. More accurately, it was simply a large tent lit with red lanterns, standing conspicuously close to the Human Village.

"At least it's open?" Komachi eyed the obviously wet paint on the sign, then peered within. "I figured that at this hour, we'd have a choice between grilled lamprey and nothing this close to the village."

"Indeed." Eiki followed Komachi's example. There were certainly plenty of people within, each with a beverage in front of them, but the overall mood in the tent was quietly puzzled. Besides chairs and tables, there was also what looked bafflingly like an oden cart. "Something about this seems wrong."

"No worries, Sis! It ain't anything weird! We're runnin' a perfectly nice temp teahouse!"

They straightened up in unison. The speaker was a calico cat perched on a stool just barely to the side of the tent's entrance, grinning at them. "Lookin' for a cosy place to chat? We've got ya covered!"

Komachi grinned back. "Mike Goutokuji, right? Don't tell me this is your shop."

"It ain't. I'm just workin' here for a bit." Mike's tail swayed gently from side to side as she talked, its many-coloured fur catching the light of the lanterns. "I'm a barker! Which I know sounds really weird since I'm a cat an' all, but I can do the job. For a few days, anyway. Steady work doin' the same thing over an' over again ain't really my thing."

Komachi chuckled. "I know that feel— er."

Eiki chose to ignore the aborted remark. In any case, Mike's plans made it sound as though she was doing precisely what she supposed to do. Losing interest in things and loafing around were some of the chief goals in a cat's life, after all.

"Anyway," Mike curled up her palm. She beckoned three times. "Welcome to the Juniper Teahouse."

The next moment, Eiki found herself within the tent with no memory of stepping inside.

She halted, blinking in the sudden light. There were half a dozen customers within, humans and youkai alike, nursing teacups and expressions ranging from vexed to serene. Although there were multiple chairs for each table, every single customer was solitary. What had looked like an oden cart from the outside was precisely that; no-one appeared to man it, although the occasional bang and tuneful whistle from within it told her that someone was indeed there, just beyond sight.

"Komachi," she began, more puzzled than troubled even as she clutched the Rod of Remorse closer to her chest. "We should keep our eyes—"

It was at that moment that she became aware of a distinct lack of Komachi by her side. Only Mike was there, waving her legs in the air and looking very pleased with herself.

Eiki spun around. "Komachi?"

No answer. No sight of Komachi, either.

Standing by the entrance feeling foolish wasn't going to do anyone much good. Ignoring the slow blink Mike was giving her, Eiki stepped back outside.

And collided with an invisible barrier with enough force to momentarily bounce her off her feet. She staggered back in surprise.

Mike gave her an apologetic wince. "Sorry, Sis." Her tail swished low as Eiki studied her forehead for bumps. "After I've invited ya in, ya've gotta stay a while."

"Is this your ability?" Eiki prodded at the barrier with the Rod of Remorse. It proved as solid and unyielding as a ten-foot block of ice. "What happened to Komachi?"

"She'll be fine," said a familiar voice behind Eiki. "At least, she will be according to what Mike told me. You'll be a better judge of whether it's true or not."

Eiki turned to see a slightly less familiar face smiling at her close to the back of the tent and responded in kind. "I didn't notice you before. May I join you?"

Hieda no Akyuu assented with a nod. She waited for Eiki to take the seat opposite of her before continuing. "I hope you've been well. This present situation expected, of course."

Eiki crossed her hands on the table. "I would say so. The situation in Hell remains both confusing and volatile, but that's to be expected. Has your work progressed well?"

Akyuu took a careful sip from her cup. "It has, thank you. I've kept comfortably busy. And Kosuzu..." Akyuu's smile, which bore a distinct resemblance to that of her previous incarnation, brightened and then immediately dimmed. "I hope you don't mind my saying this, but I expected her to sit where you sit now." Her smile grew more rueful still. "Especially since she's the one who wished to come here."

"Has this establishment..." Eiki gestured at their surroundings and discovered that she couldn't call them that without correcting herself. "...Tent been here for long?"

"It appeared yesterday. As for me, I have been here for ten minutes. Mike informed me that it takes at least an hour for her invitations to be considered fulfilled."

"That's longer than I had hoped." Eiki frowned at the innocuous-looking exit and Mike, who was currently occupied with a moth circling the lantern nearest to the entrance before turning her attention back to Akyuu. "Can you tell me precisely what's going on in this place?"

"I can explain that!" a muddled but cheery voice called from the bottom of the oden cart.

---

Komachi had walked merrily along for several minutes, taking in the twilight air and seeing if she could get her breath to fog up in the lingering cold from the past winter, when she realised she had at no point decided to take an evening stroll. Moreover, she was now alone, something which was the exact opposite of her plans for the night.

She halted in the middle of the path and turned to look over her shoulder. The greenness of the teahouse tent blended into the evening behind her, but she could still see it when she squinted. Distance of course meant little to her: she could be back there nearly as soon as she decided upon it.

But first, it was best to figure what had happened. It was likely nothing serious: the situation had the feel of a fairy prank to it. Still, the fact that she couldn't actually remember what had passed rubbed her the wrong way.

"Alright..." She adjusted her scythe to rest more comfortably on her shoulder. "What happened here?"

So, there was the weird teahouse, and Mike, who did strike Komachi as bit of a prankster, but who had seemed earnest enough inviting them in. Had Mike addressed her invitation to Lady Eiki alone? No, Komachi was sure it had been extended to them both.

She recalled her only previous encounter with Mike, on a lazy afternoon not that long ago when she had wandered into Gensokyo and struck up a conversation with the cat upon meeting her on the road. Mike had mentioned arriving in Gensokyo not that long ago, having only recently left behind the temple she had been born at, and that due to circumstances she had done so before she had completed her training as a maneki—

"Damn."

At the moment of realisation, Komachi became aware of of running footsteps rapidly approaching her, just in time not to be entirely surprised by someone small but fast-moving crashing into her.

"Ow!" The person who had collided with her tottered back, holding a hand to her nose. Even in the dying light and with half her face covered, she was obviously Kosuzu Motoori. "I'm sorry! I just..."

Kosuzu trailed off. Her eyes travelled first up to Komachi's face, then to the blade of her scythe. She took a startled step back.

Komachi grinned. "No need to fret. You're not dying tonight."

Kosuzu relaxed quickly in that quietly alarming way of humans who made of habit of traipsing too close to the border of the mundane and the supernatural. As her shock drained away, it was replaced by an almost mournful expression, so out of place it was almost comical.

"What's the matter?" Komachi almost began walking to see if Kosuzu would follow, but she had a funny feeling it would only result in Kosuzu crashing into her again. "It's not wise for you to run alone on a dark night like this. Did someone refuse to return your favourite book?"

Kosuzu fidgeted with her sleeves. "No, nothing like that." For a moment, she looked hesitant to speak, but once she did, the words spilled out of her in a tumble. "Actually, it's our anniversary today."

"Whose?"

Kosuzu's cheeks flushed pink. "Mine and Akyuu's."

"Really?" Komachi couldn't help but chuckle. "That's a funny coincidence."

"What is?"

"Never mind." Komachi relaxed her stance. "Let's see if I can guess what happened. Since it was your anniversary, you decided to go out to celebrate."

"That's right."

"And you happened upon a new, strange teahouse."

"Exactly!" Kosuzu halted her eager nodding to blink. "How did you know?"

"Because it sounds like we're in the same figurative boat."

"Oh." Kosuzu smiled weakly. "I suppose that's better than a literal boat. Um, I mean..."

Komachi laughed. "That'll be another day." Before Kosuzu could become too unsettled, she nudged her head towards the road behind them. "Come on. Let's go find our dates."

---

"Here you go." Suika Ibuki slammed the teacup onto the table with enough force to make half the liquid within leap into the air. Miraculously, not only were both the table and cup undamaged, but the drink returned into the cup without so much as a single drop spilling. She winked. "I'd say it's on the house, but I'm guessing you'd take that for a bribe."

Eiki took the cup gingerly. Seeing its contents in the air had already made it obvious it was filled with anything but tea, but the scent confirmed it. "Is this sake?"

"Well, yeah."

"The sign outside said you're running a teahouse."

"Yeah, yeah. Is there a law saying you can't serve sake in a teahouse?"

Eiki had to concede the point. "Not in Gensokyo, no."

"See? Try it. It's good." Suika turned towards Akyuu. "Care for a refill?"

As Akyuu murmured a demurral, Eiki took a sip from her drink. It was indeed rather good, but that was beside the real matter at hand. She looked up. "Suika—"

Suika had already left the table. Eiki watched her stalk around the tent, grinning as she went, gathering empty cups and refilling others with seemingly no input from the patrons.

"So where was I?" She returned and cheerfully pulled out the remaining seat for herself. If she was discomfited by any lingering memories of the less than auspicious circumstances during which she had last encountered Eiki, she showed no signs of it, instead beaming with the brightness shared by the very innocent and inveterate liars. "A story of some kind?"

"You were about to explain why we can't leave."

"Yeah, that's right. So this teahouse is just a bit of fun. I'll get going as soon as Reimu finds out I've set up shop this close to the village." Suika grinned. "Actually, I think I'll wait for her to show up. It's more fun that way."

Akyuu offered her a polite smile. Eiki pushed her cup aside. "And then you hired Mike?"

"That's right." Suika took Eiki's cup and downed it in a single long swig before continuing. "Of course, I don't really need her to gather customers. I can use my foregathering ability to bring people over just fine. But it feels more like a proper teahouse with an employee, doesn't it?"

"A floor might have a similar effect," commented Akyuu dryly.

"Anyway, since Mike can only invite one person in at a time, I decided to gather people into the area so that even if only half of them got in we'd still have plenty of customers. It worked really well, too. Until people tried to leave. I tried making the people disperse once they got stuck, obviously, but for some reason it only worked on those who hadn't been invited in at all. I'm guessing our abilities got entangled in some mysterious way."

Eiki nodded. "I see."

"Anyway, you don't have to worry. Everyone gets to leave eventually. Even the person stuck for the longest managed to walk out after two hours."

Akyuu set her cup down. "At least one of us may not have to wait for that long." She raised her voice. "Mike?"

Mike, who was no longer paying attention to the moth and was instead swinging her leg back and forth, jerked her head upwards. "What's up, Sis?"

"Can you step out for a moment?"

"Sure." Mike dove out. "Now what?"

Akyuu stood up and nodded at Suika. "Thank you for your hospitality." She gestured at Eiki to join her at the tent's entrance and waited until they were both there before speaking again. "Mike, can you attempt to invite us outside?"

"Oh, I see." Eiki smiled as she grasped Akyuu's intent. "Even if the invitation can only work on one of us, it still means one of us will be free to go."

"I hope you're the one invited out." Akyuu's smile was thin but sincere. "Unnerving as it is being this close to multiple youkai, I have made my peace with waiting here. After all, by remaining in one place I have better odds of re-uniting with—"

"Akyuu!"

They turned to look outside. Kosuzu hovered right behind Mike, bopping her head around in an effort to see past her. Behind her, calm but still curious, stood Komachi. Upon noticing Eiki, she gave her a cheery little wave.

Akyuu's smile immediately warmed to the point where its brightness was a match to the lanterns. "Everything is fine, Kosuzu. It's only a small supernatural obstacle."

Kosuzu gave a distracted nod, then turned towards Mike, looking almost ready to put hands on the cat. "Please invite us in!"

Mike's eyes darted from Komachi and Kosuzu to Akyuu and Eiki and then back. She frowned. "Kay, how about we try somethin' like this?"

She positioned herself in the tent's entrance, one foot in, one foot out. Before anyone could do anything to stop her, she beckoned with both hands. "Welcome!"

The next thing Eiki knew, she had collided with something unyielding but relatively soft.

"Oof." Komachi staggered back, then reached out to steady Eiki. She grinned. "At this rate I'm going to be qualified to work as a roadblock."

Back on her feet, Eiki looked around. She was outside again, with Komachi's hands on her arms and the tent securely behind. "Who knows how far I would have walked if you hadn't stopped me. Thank you for catching me."

"Did you ever doubt I wouldn't?"

Eiki smiled back at her. "No. I didn't."

They looked back. Within the tent, Kosuzu was clinging to Akyuu's arm, speaking rapidly but too quietly for any discernible words to make it outside the tent. Mike was watching them from her perch, smiling with self-satisfaction.

"Well, that worked out great." Suika came to the entrance, beaming as though Mike's success was hers as well. "Must be fate." She winked. "And don't worry about paying. The drink was on the house after all."

Given that most of the drink remained in the house, Eiki found little cause to complain. "Thank you." She frowned. "Don't invite more people in until you have understood what causes this. Consider—"

"Yeah, sure." Suika made a sweeping wave. "Have a good night!"

She retreated back into the tent. Only Mike remained near the entrance, still pleased with herself.

"That didn't exactly work out, huh?" said Komachi, smiling all the while.

"Yes, I suppose it didn't." Eiki watched Akyuu and Kosuzu retake the table Akyuu had previously occupied, smiling at each other all as though they were the only two people in the world. "But it doesn't seem to have done any harm, either. Should we consider the grilled lamprey stand?"

"Funny. I was just thinking I was in the mood for some fried fish." Komachi let go to adjust her scythe, which had nearly fallen from her shoulder in the collision, then held out her hand. "How about we go see what else fate has in store for us tonight?"

And so they did, continuing down the road together, filled with newfound appreciation for the beauty of spring nights.

[piggyoink]

Picture this...

Sunday, March 8, I am sitting in my room surrounded by school work that I am barely paying attention to, when my phone gets a familiar ring. A Tinder notification. Mind you, I have been texting with a guy for a couple of weeks now, but we both knew it was just for fun. So here I am, picking up my phone to see what the internet had to offer now. Someone swiped right. Okay, fine. I’ll bite. After one or two profiles that really didn’t spark anything other than an eye roll, I saw her. Tall, caramel colored skin, bright smile, long dark hair... I was intrigued. Not a lot of information on her profile, just her name and a couple of quirks about her likes. I remember thinking “what the hell” and swiped right, trying to do something unpredictable and out of the norm. We matched.

Mind you, I am an introverted bisexual woman who barely got out of her last relationship alive (even thought it ended two years prior to this). I focussed on work and school, barely had time to spend with friends (all 5 of them), and who prefers her cat over any other live being on the planet. Swiping right on a girl that looked like my polar opposite on a random Sunday was incredibly out of character. Yet, here I was. 

She messaged me firsts, I think. To be honest, the conversation is just a blur in my memory right now, but it somehow ended with us making plans to go to the movies that same day. A facetime call and countless messages later, I’m in my car and on my way to meet, who would become, the girl of my dreams... Electric. That is all I can say about our first day. We talked for 6 straight hours, even during the movie we were supposed to be watching. When the movie was over we went to my car and talked some more. The moment we got to my car, all I could think about was kissing her. But good old me promised herself she wasn’t going to make the first move, so I tried my best to put my face close enough that she got the message. After what felt like hours and seconds at the same time, Bad Bunny was playing in the background and she finally leaned in. 

Long story short, we met again the next day. She was new and intoxicating and everything I was terrified of being. I invited her over to my apartment without even thinking. The moment she said she was on her way I had a full-blown panic attack. My roommates tried to call me down, but I was all but losing my  shit on my living room floor while they listened to my hyperventilating self talking about the amazing night I had with this woman.

“I’m not having sex with her” was all I kept repeating to myself. I’ve been abstinent for two whole years, and the thought of being naked with this woman both excited me beyond bounds and terrified me to my core. Spoiler alert, we didn’t have sex (I was proud and deeply frustrated by that later that night). 

It’s been a year and 7 months since I asked her to be my girlfriend (exactly 2 months and 20 days after we met), and I’ve never been happier. Almost two years and a pandemic later, we are going stronger than ever, no major dramas, our families know each other and we are about to celebrate our second Christmas together. 

Life gets good once you start been who you want to be, even when it scares you to your very core. 

[alexseanchai]

Fanfic 2020 in Review

I got tagged by @kasienda @noirshitsuji and @marvelousmsmol and I am tagging whoever wants to play!

1) List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished:

*filters own works to complete and updated in 2020*

1 - 20 of 57 Works by AlexSeanchai

nope. *adds filter to include only works of at least 1000 words*

unless otherwise indicated, these are all Miraculous Ladybug:

“don’t bake it lying down”, post-reveal Marichat vs Felix Graham de Vanily

“veracity”, canon divergence from “Ladybug” featuring Mister Bug and Verity Queen (so also Marichat, I guess)

“(no request is too extreme, if) your heart is in your dream”, in which Hawkmoth wins, for the thirty seconds or so before Emilie saves Ladybug and Chat Noir’s lives

“tell me you love me and make me believe it”, in which trans girl Chatonne Noire ropes Ladybug into helping plan her civilian self’s escape slash social transition

“kingmaker, oathbreaker”, in which Hawkmoth wins and Emilie watches her son remove himself from the family

“stay and let me watch you break it down” (Twelve Dancing Princesses), a modern setting

“set a course for winds of fortune”, in which trans girl Chatonne Noire has already escaped and Gabriel and Nathalie are trying to bring Gabriel’s son home

“we ground love in a hopeless place”, in which post-reveal Marinette’s attempt to remain resolutely not in love with her partner dissolves like sugar in coffee when they start a pun war

“ring the bells that still can ring”, in which Alya is deeply confused about why Adrien and Marinette are planning a wedding when last night both were single

“burning wishes at both ends (the cold wind and long loud wail remix)”, in which Gabriel made a monkey’s paw wish and Emilie makes another

“words cannot espresso”, in which Marinette’s OC roommate is justifiably worried for Marinette’s safety, and meanwhile Adrien takes care of Marinette

“the compromise of truth” (the chronologically second-earliest part posted to date of nine lives, snake’s eyes), in which Adrien tells his friends how he won some freedom and respect from his father

“At The Present Time”, the Ladrien/Ladynoir marriage proposal follow-up to @art-deco-shrimp‘s  “Your Presents Required”

“j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)”, in which the events of canon must just have been a series of dream sequences, Marinette and Adrien both think, until they both arrive at Chloe’s Halloween masquerade dressed as themselves from the dreams

2) Number of words written:

ahahaha no. I am not counting all my scattered fic drafts and trying to figure out what I did and didn’t write in 2020. I refuse.

AO3 says I posted 162K in 2020. it is counting all of keeps you guessing (like any real love), which (a) I started posting in 2019 (b) is co-written by @galahadwilder​; it is counting all of my meta snippets collection, much of which was written in 2019; it is counting the Vimeo passwords for my vids. but I probably cleared 150K by a safe margin.

3) Your most popular fic:

“veracity” has a four-digit kudos count, wow, when’d that happen? this is also the 2020 work with the most hits and the most bookmarks, but “tell me you love me” has four-thirds as many comments as its nearest competitor.

4) Your personal fav:

“cannot break us, not with a thousand swords”, no question about it. this is the one in which Ladybug proposes marriage to Chat Noir via Princess Bride meme on Tumblr. (if you intend to download the work or otherwise to consume it with creator style off, you want the accessible version instead of the primary version.)

5) Your fav scene:

aaaaaaaaa

—okay so this is cheating and I know it, since Uncertain Humors (the one where Marinette/Adrien is both Orpheus/Eurydice and Theseus/Ariadne) is nowhere near finished, never mind posted (maybe I'll get “Sanguine” done to post on my birthday?)

but it is still my favorite of the year. as you might guess from that description of the story, this scene has content notes for character death:

Hell is a maze. Marinette walks.

This acrid passage has little to see but damp stone, seeming blood-stained in the dim carmine light. At about the height of her heart, the faintly glowing thread cuts through the not-clammy air; it ought to be pulsing at the same rate as the heart it's bound to. She might be able to see her own reflection if she looked down at the open sewage pipe, or at one of the puddles that now and again she splashes through, dampening the canvas of her shoes. She might see reflected what's behind her.

She remembers Mme. Mendeleiev lecturing on human physiology. In healthy humans old enough to have learned how, urination is a voluntary action: one may not know which muscles one tenses and relaxes in order to do so, and probably isn't paying attention to those details when one is doing, but one has conscious control over whether one does. Usually. Stress and anxiety mean some people are unable to relax the relevant sphincter muscle and others are unable to stop themselves. It's voluntary for cats, too: it's one way they mark their territories. Cat-boys have other ways.

There is a moment in every human life when all one's muscles relax at once. Some Parisians have had several such moments.

The thread is braided with itself around her left fourth finger, rows of tiny red half-hitch knots, and falls loosely over the back of her hand to loop twice around her wrist. She holds it wrapped between the fingers of her right hand to keep it at a constant tension, as though knitting with this insubstantial thread, so fragile for something two (two dozen, two million) lives hang from—too thin to sew with, no thicker than one strand of his hair. As she walks, she winds it around and around and around her wrist.

Between her ring finger and her right hand, it loops twice.

Marinette's shoe lands in a puddle she didn't see. The rainwater splashes soundlessly onto her bare ankle and on the stone.

(With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal— It's a very loud song.)

She walks on.

6) A fic or scene that challenged you:

where the firelight fades, no contest. this is the second story I’ve ever been able to stick with more than a couple hundred words past the 20K mark, but it’s easily the twentieth novel-length I’ve begun. (though also, you know that kedreeva post? well, 90K later, I’m less than 15K from completing this 10K fic! I think.) and I have been learning so much about long-form fiction.

there has also been a lot of weeping and tearing my hair. case in point: I just trashed the chapter 15 draft because I figured out the reason it wasn’t going anywhere! I can probably keep the first few hundred words of that draft without any editing, and another few hundred with some revision...

7) A line of writing you’re proud of:

from “j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)”:

Everything about their partnership is fragments of sentences in the dream diary Adrien writes in ultraviolet pen. Disjointed flickers of thought even when examined under the black light he hides in the snack cabinet under packets of Super Yoyo sandwich cookies and bags of cheesy Monster Munch potato chips and boxes of petit écolier butter cookies (chocolat noir)—none of which explains the gym-socks smell. All fleeting incoherent flashes, invisible between the mundane lines of La Modification shelved at his bedside between Leroux and Dumas. None of it is solid. Adrien has more proof his room's haunted.

okay let me break this down for you!

* Adrien started a dream diary to make sense of the memories

* in invisible ink, in a book that (according to Wikipedia) is thematically appropriate and won’t (if Gabriel sees it) look like anything other than Adrien developing an interest in French literature

* shelved between Phantom of the Opera and The Three Musketeers

* look I didn’t come up with the name “black light”

* or “chocolat noir” for what English speakers call “dark chocolate”, or “petit écolier” (that is, “little schoolboy”) for that sort of butter cookie

* also not my fault that “chocolat noir” sounds remarkably like “Chat Noir”, which, attentive readers may have noticed, is not a name that appears in the story after the header and before Miraculous Cure

* I found the website of a store in Boston, Massachusetts that caters to French expats, and the yo-yo cookies and the monster chips were right there in the photos, y’all

* the snack stash and the black light live in the cabinet where, in canon, the Camembert lives; yes, that cheese smells in the real world like gym socks

* this story’s akuma was not able to affect anything but squishy human memory: nobody affected remembers anything about Ladybug or Chat Noir or Hawkmoth, not in any solid way, not even when they read news articles about the subject, and this includes Marinette and Adrien not being able to see or hear or remember their own kwamis—but you know what Adrien’s Insta post about his poltergeist and Adrien’s Insta post with the floating sock don’t show and don’t explicitly refer to?

* I love this paragraph so much (my housemates may have been lovingly mocking me over it)

8) A comment that touched you:

there are people (y’all know who you are) who said y’all are studying my style. I ded of blush.

9) Something that inspired your writing:

by volume of fic drafts that can be blamed on any particular person, the winner is probably @norakwami​

10) Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

so that longest-story-ever-written record I set in 2007 with the 89.5K story that, till where the firelight fades, was the only story I’d gotten much past 20K?

I broke that fucking record!

and then I deleted the draft of firelight chapter 15 😭

11) Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

I’m starting work on a fantasy novel, a Sleeping Beauty retelling in which I explore (among other things) the economic consequences of the king’s ordering all the spinning wheels burned, and I want to make significant progress on that. and I want to not make my hands any worse; I kind of need those!

(breaking news alert: bodies fucking suck. so does giving yourself repetitive stress injuries in doing one and a half to two people’s worth of work for an organization that was never ever going to pay you more than one person’s worth of pay.)

[annakie]

Patchy

A little under two years ago I made this post, a chronicle of Patchy, the outside feral, turned inside kitty who took ten years to learn to love being petted.

Today we got some bad news.

TW for pet illness under the cut.

Patchy’s always been a bit of a puker, usually oh, say, once a month or so she’d have a good puke for no reason.  I’ve had other cats that are pukers so it’s not that surprising.

In the late winter/early spring I started to notice more frequent pukes.

I’d decided around that time that I needed to find healthier food for my cats, with Leela, the oldest turning 16, Fry turning 11, Pemily turning 7 and Patchy turning, I don’t know, 12 or 13.  No way to really know.  They already got decent food, but I did my research and had started looking at Blue Buffalo, American Journey and Dave’s canned food. 

Patchy had been on a mostly canned food diet since she went to the vet back in early 2020 and had a bunch of teeth pulled.  Also, as a note, Patchy’s brief flirtation with hanging out in the rest of the house ended after like a month.  She and Fry fought too much, and eventually he claimed the rest of the house is his.  He also still thinks the master bedroom should be his, but, Patchy defends that territory well if anyone else encroaches. (The door just stays closed most of the time.)  I really wish they could have all gotten along, I loved having Patchy out, but both Fry and Patchy agreed it wasn’t going to work.

The food she’d been on was pretty junk-food-ish though, which she did love and eat. But I wanted everyone on more or less the same diet and the highest quality food I could readily get them.  So I bought a lot of cans of different kinds of food, and kept a list of which ones seemed to be hits and misses. (I still have a dozen cans of the kind nobody liked -- Blue Buffalo Wilderness Salmon -- I’ve been meaning to take to the city shelter).

Around halfway into this experiment I noticed Patchy puking more, so I decided to try to stick with her favorite kinds, which, I thought was helping.

But once I was fully vaccinated this year, it was time to get all the pets to the vet.  I noticed Patchy had still lost some weight, I thought it was due to switching around her food too much earlier, and tried to stick with the things I felt she really liked.

Then, of course, Leela got sick, spent two and a half days in the pet ER and almost died back in April, and then it was like... yeah we’re done being afraid of COVID, we’re done waiting.  It’s time to get them all their checkups.

My regular vet was doing COVID restrictions so no pet owners inside the clinic back then, so they took Patchy (and the others) in without me.  I thought Patchy had lost some weight, but Dr. B. sounded alarmed when he called me with how much lost she’d lost in the last year, about five pounds.  He wanted to do some bloodwork for Patchy, and I said of course go for it.  

He called back, sounding much calmer and was like “her bloodwork couldn’t be more perfect.  Let’s try switching up her food, get her on some sensitive stomach food and let’s see how she’s doing in a couple weeks.”

So two weeks later it did seem like she was doing better, I called Dr. B back and he said to bring her back in a month.

It was my plan to take her back next week when I had some PTO coming.  I admit, later than planned... my last couple of months have been mucn more focused on Leela... who, thankfully, continues to thrive.  But feeling like my time with her is running out, she’s been my main area of concern.

The last few days though, Patchy has really not been eating well.  Sometimes she does OK, sometimes nothing at all.  And then puking every day.  I swapped her back even to a few cans of the Junk Food (Whiskas) I still had laying around.  She’d eat it... and then puke it up.  And also she... stopped sleeping with me.  I thought... well, it’s summer.  It’s probably too hot to cuddle.  But she stopped laying on the bed.  She stopped coming up for pets when I come to bed and hang out for awhile specifically to spend time with her and pet her.  She runs under the bed again when I come into the room.  It’s like we regressed to three or four years ago... just two weeks after our two year anniversary of getting to pet her.

So this afternoon we went to the vet.  Getting her into the carrier sucked.  I tried nice methods, then I had to scare her into the closet by running the vacuum, and then pretty roughly grab her.  I have scratches and a pretty deep bite on my thumb which either maybe hit a nerve or is infected, may have to go to the doctor for it tomorrow. (Yes, washed it thoroughly with soap as soon as I could.)  I also hated betraying her trust that badly, but it’s for her own good.  But it was rough.

Dr B. wasn’t working so I saw one of the other vets.  I liked him. Also COVID restrictions are gone so I got to go inside. But after talking to him for a few minutes, going over her history and what changes I’ve made, he spent a long time rubbing her intestines (Patchy was perfectly behaved, at least.)   Then he looked concerned.  Then he said let’s do an ultrasound.

A few minutes he came back in and showed me her scans. 

Lymphoma.

I was a bit stunned for a second so I missed a bit of the technical speak he said next, but it came down to the best thing we could do is give her some medicine that may buy her more time.  It doesn’t sound like Chemo or Operating is even really an option.  I’m going to call back tomorrow and see if Dr. B or the vet I talked to can talk me through it a little better now that I’ve had a chance to digest.

If I can get Patchy to take the medicine, and if she responds well to it... she may have 3 - 6 months left.

If she won’t take it, or if she doesn’t respond, it’s at this point, a matter of her comfort and quality of life.  So... weeks.  And I’m worried about getting her to take the medicine, especially since she won’t even come let me pet her and we just had a huge trust betrayal today. I don’t know if I could take her spending her last few weeks hating me, especially if the medicine doesn’t work.

The vet also told me that... I didn’t do anything wrong.  And we did the right thing six or so weeks ago by changing her food and seeing if a few other things worked. Especially with how good her blookwork looked.  He barely felt the cancer today, he said six weeks ago Dr. B wouldn’t have been able to feel it at all.  And for this particular type of lymphoma... there’s not a lot to be done, anyway.  That made me feel better, at least.

(As a really dumb side note, after I got her home, I sat down to eat dinner and watch an episode of Star Trek to take my mind off of all of this since I’d been crying since I found out, paid my bill, and drove home, stopping at a drive through so I didn’t have the mental load of cooking.  And I’m in the middle of my rewatch of Enterprise.  I bet any trekkies reading this can guess what episode was next in my rewatch because yep I’m in season two and A NIGHT IN SICKBAY started playing, of course, so obviously I NOPED THE FUCK OUT OF THAT EPISODE.  For the non-Trekkies.... the Captain has a dog on board, an adorable beagle, Porthos.  The dog gets sick and almost dies and spends his night in Sickbay.  He does pull through.  But the ONE episode centered around a beloved pet getting sick and almost dying... and that’s the episode that fate decreed I was supposed to watch tonight. I did not.  I don’t know if I can watch it anytime soon.)

So now for the next few weeks I will spend my time being grateful that Leela is alive and thriving and pray she keeps doing so -- I will continue to give her extra love and care and attention, and also I will need to do the same for Patchy.  I can’t even do it at the same time because Patchy will not come out here, and will not allow Leela in her room. 

I am low-key freaking out that there’s the possibility of the nightmare scenario happening to me again.  In winter 2016, after months of being sick, I woke up on Christmas morning and my 16-year-old cat Jim had died overnight.  It was terrible, and traumatic, and I had to deal with everything all alone because anyone who could support me was... well, it was Christmas morning and my family was all out of town, too.  Posting about it on Tumblr... actually really helped me, since it’s the only place I felt like I could talk about it.

That Christmas was on a Sunday.

Wednesday morning I woke up to hearing my dog, Cebu, moaning in pain.   I rushed him to the vet, but whatever happened overnight, it was too late, maybe there wasn’t anything we ever could have done even if I’d been awake when the puking started.  The vet said the kindest thing we could do was put him to sleep.  And we did.

Also I just, JUST now realized that the vet who helped put Cebu to sleep was the same vet who I saw today about Patchy.

But I lost two of my pets within 3 days of each other.  I was very lucky that my job let us have the week between Christmas and New Years off that year.  I had a few days to pull myself together, and I needed it.  It took months to recover totally, though.  Every once in awhile I think about that week and I still cry, though.  I miss them both so much and they both had deaths that were less than ideal.

I remember thinking then “I have like, five years of reprive.  Leela will be sixteen in five years, and that’s when I have to start to worry again, when I have to be ready to say goodbye again.”

I thought then that even after that I’d have two or three years until Patchy would leave me, and two or three years past that until Fry.  And then five more years with Pemily.

Right now I’m realizing that I will likely lose Patchy, very best case in six months, but possibly before July is over.

I need Leela to keep thriving.  I don’t know how I would handle losing another two so close together again.

Patchy is... she’s the one who chose me.  I chose my other cats.  Fry and Pemily I plucked from the backyard when they were tiny kittens and brought them inside.  They didn’t have a choice.  Leela I adopted from a rescue, she didn’t have a choice.  Patchy chose to stay.  She chose to stick around when she realized I’d feed her.  It took years but she learned to trust, she chose to come inside when it was cold, when it was hot, when it was storming, and when she was pregnant.  She chose me to help raise the last litter of kittens she’d ever had.  (My entire Rescue Kitties tag is full of adventures in finding, raising and usually adopting out strays. Lots and lots of posts about Patchy and her final litter.  Been awhile since I’ve done it, though.)

I used to joke that Patchy was my roommate, not a pet.  She ate, drank, did her business, and kept to herself for a long time.  Don’t get me wrong, she was a very good, quiet, considerate roommate and I loved her.  But it wasn’t until that wonderful day she let me pet her that I felt like she was my pet. 

I loved having her just hanging out living in the house since 2014, but the last two years especially have brought me such joy.  I’ve tried to never take Patchy’s trust in me for granted.  It was EARNED.  Every small step forward was a milestone to be celebrated. I worked for every bit of trust and love Patchy has given me, and have been rewarded.  And it was worth it.  Every minute.  Every long, patient year.

Even now I’m telling myself... without me, she would have died years ago.  Probably violently, or starved, maybe frozen to death.  Getting to die of cancer brought on by older age is not something that most feral cats ever get to do.  Getting to become an inside kitty where she’s loved, and comfortable for the second half of her life was something remarkable, brought on by her wiles and will to survive for so many years, bolstered by the food I left out for her.  She’s had this much time, this much life, this much comfort and love that she would have never had otherwise, and that’s something to be happy about.

I’ve watched dozens of ferals come and go through my neighborhood throughout the years.  I feed them, I work on seeing if I can get them to trust me enough to let me TNR them, but even those that I have, I don’t keep seeing for much longer.  There’s one right now, I jokingly call him Patchy’s Boyfriend.  He still won’t trust me and never has fallen for the trap when I’ve tried.  But he’s there most nights when I feed him around 11.  He’s getting terribly thin despite the quality food I leave out.  I’ll miss him.

But none of them were Patchy.  None of them became what she is to me. None of them survived long enough to adapt and decide to live another life.

Also?  I wouldn’t have Pemily without her.  Pemily is literally Patchy’s Granddaughter and that is one more thing I love Patchy for.

I feel guilty sometimes, both because I don’t spend nearly enough waking hours with her I feel, but I have three others who need me, as well. One who’s time is growing short, as well.  And they don’t get to sleep with me, she does.  What a joy it was all winter when I would wake up and she’d be sleeping on my chest.  I’d get a bit annoyed when she’d sleep with her backside to my face and her tail would tickle my face and wake me up.  I’m a side-sleeper half the night and she hated that it was harder to get comfortable on me that way.  She still doesn’t want to have my hand just stay on her, she wants pets and skirtches, no long-form touching.  That’s ok.  I sleep better with her weight on me.

I don’t know what the next few weeks or months will hold, but at least pet-wise, it’s going to be rough.  I’m going to wrap this up and give these three out here a good pet, then go hope Patchy comes and asks for love, too.  Tomorrow is one more day with all four of them, and for that, I’ll be grateful, for every remaining day.

[deniigi]

@pomegranate-belle and @puffins-studio have kindly convinced me to share with you all this little bit.

It’s of Electric Sheep but if Android Matt had a Mike who’s been looking for him since they were separated as youths (right before Matt started to become an android)

Title: Seventeen years

Summary: bounty hunter Mike has been taking jobs in nyc, searching for his lost twin. A chance encounter with a blonde woman who steals his heart helps him find him.

---------------

Seventeen years, ten months, 18 days.

Mike had lived out of the city longer than in it. Rochester was as close as he’d gotten in foster care, but work had dragged him through occasionally, and frankly he was grateful for it.

He’d told himself seventeen years ago that he’d get back.

So here he was, reflecting on life outside the cell of a guy screaming bloody murder.

Dude was a bot-trafficker.

The shit made some serious dough, Mike had seen it himself. But you know what else made some serious dough? Bounty hunting. I.e. Catching the people who got pissed off about other people makin’ some serious dough.

These days, they were all bot-traffickers. Mike could barely remember a time when he was chasing jewel thieves and counterfeiters down alleys anymore. It was all bot-this and bot-that—which, to be fair, was kind of the same thing as a jewel thief.

Property was where the real money was at. And bots? Hoo boy, the best kind could cost a penthouse.

Mike thought it was good for them that they had no idea how much they were worth. He found it kinda sweet if he was honest. This screamin’ bot dude’s collection of androids were all tucked up against each other in the other room, performing ‘maintenance’ on each other like a pile of cats. They were community-minded, bless ‘em. It made Mike smile a little bit.

Of course, so did the paycheck.

Yeah, the paycheck helped, too.

 --

 He got a job for the city. He took it without asking too many questions.

It didn’t matter how much city jobs paid, Mike always went ready for a double-shift there.

The last time he’d seen Matt had been when their social workers had untangled their hands at St. Agnes. Both of them had been wailing like toddlers, like they had been in front of Dad’s casket.

Up until that point, everyone had assured them that they’d be kept together—that no one was going to try to separate them. They were twins. People would understand that you couldn’t just take the one and leave the other. They had an unbreakable and psychic bond, clearly.

But then one day the social worker hadn’t answered Matt’s question when he’d asked about it again, seeking reassurance.

Mike’s stomach had dropped then. And sure enough, the next thing they knew, people were throwing around words like ‘specialty care’ and ‘high-risk’ and ‘better in the long-run.’

Mike had gone to a foster home screaming and fighting in the back of a sedan. Matty stayed behind, allegedly to be placed in some kind of group home with more ‘supportive’ care.

That was seventeen years ago--almost eighteen years ago.

Mike only knew what Matt looked like these days because he shaved every morning in the bathroom mirror. But, he told himself, not for much longer.

He hadn’t become a bounty hunter for the looks. He’d done it for the money and the job experience. Could he track a criminal? Hell yeah. He’d been one. He knew how they thought. More importantly: could he track a brother?

He could, actually. He was a Murdock; he knew how they thought.

 --

 The job in the city was whatever. Took half an hour and a big smile to corner the gal like a rat. She went to the highest bidder; Mike went back out on the prowl.

Chances were that Matt would be drawn to Hell’s Kitchen. And chances were that he would be searching for Mike as Mike was for him. He was an idealist like that. Like Mike.

Awwww. Old habits die hard.

 --

 Hell’s Kitchen had changed over the years, but it still felt like home when Mike put a foot in the boundaries. He knew these stoops and all these torn posters. He knew that skyline and that raggedy flag pole.

The names on the businesses changed—some got new lights, some got new windows, but all in all, the feel was still there.

 --

 He set out to find Matt in the old, old haunts. Stopped by the church. The old kids’ home. They still hadn’t seen him, no, Mike. Sorry, my son.

He took a waltz down memory lane by the docks.

He found the greasiest looking coffee shop he could and sat at a sticky table, people-watching through the huge half-wall windows for about an hour.

Nothin’ yet.

His coffee was cold when he left.

  --

He ran into a girl at a bar that night under green and red neon lights. They danced close. She told him he reminded her of someone she knew, and Mike thought that that was just a lovely coincidence, sugar, wasn’t it?

He invited her to his hotel room. She accepted.

He woke up to waves of amber grain strewn across this pillow, sticking to his lips, and the smell of something powdery and floral in the endless line of this lady’s neck.

God, she was like a swan. Mike ought to buy her breakfast.

He did because he was a gentleman. He left to go grab a sandwich from the bodega outside but came back to find the bed and the room empty. There was a little note on the pad next to the bed that said ‘thanks, handsome’ with a smile face next to it and a number.

He eased himself down on to the bed and stuffed a sandwich in his mouth to grin around.

  --

Her name was Karen.

It wasn’t their last night. Mike saw her when she was in the city and they had a well-worn routine after a few months.

Every time, a new bar, a new club, a new drink. But the same dance and then the same chase and collapse.

She told him nothing about herself, and he loved that about her. She passed fingers through his hair. She trailed them across his jaw, bristly stubble or no.

And then the next morning, she was gone, and Mike was sighin’ like a blue bird in spring.

 --

 Valentine’s Day found Mike in the city. He didn’t delude himself with thinking that Karen was available—he wasn’t that full of it.

But he did think that even a lady as lovely and possibly taken as Karen deserved a bouquet of flowers from a ‘friend.’ So he took a meander down to a wholesaler and chatted up one of the makers until a collection of spring tulips graced by baby’s breath found their way into his hands.

Karen, he suspected, worked somewhere in an office. Her ever-present, practical pencil skirt said so, and the way that she frequented Josie’s told him that she lived in the area around 9th and 52nd.

It wasn’t hard to snoop. It wasn’t hard to trawl through the local business websites in that area, peeking at staff pages until low and behold, the golden grail herself appeared smiling on try number 7.

He smiled back at her photo and went back to get the name of the place and the address only to pause in his tracks.

Nelson & Murdock.

Karen worked at a law firm called Nelson & Murdock.

Huh.

Well. Good for that Murdock. Mike hoped he was out when he brought these flowers in.

 --

 The firm was dinky and crammed up two flights of stairs across from an orthodontist’s office. Mike pitied Karen for having to spend her days watching droves of traumatized middle schoolers leave that place with wires crammed in their faces. The flowers even looked like they were wilting in the hallway.

Mike gave them a pep talk on his way to the door.

He knocked but no one answered, so he turned the knob and a handful of people where sat looking nervous in the waiting area. The front desk was empty. Abandoned.

Oh, Karen.

Ever at work like you are at play.

Mike made his way over the desk and caught sight of a familiar fluffy little ball on a keychain at the edge of the desk.

It was adorable.

He found a scrap of paper by the phone, reached over and snagged it and a pen to leave a little love note when he felt a tug at his elbow.

He forced down the irritation and turned back with a smile. An older lady with huge bifocals squinted at him.

“Mr. Murdock,” she said. “I’ve got to go move my car. Don’t you give up my place, you hear?”

Mike forced himself to hold his smile.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy, madam.”

Murdock must have looked smooth as hell for Mike to have been mistaken for him.

The lady squinted left, right, and center, then scoffed and pinched his arm.

“Cheeky boy,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

She left.

Mike’s brain short-circuited for another few seconds before declaring that whole situation unresolvable, bizarre, and emphatically not his problem. Sorry Nana. Go to the back of the line like everyone else.

He went back to writing his card.

“Matt?”

He didn’t mean to look up. It was a reflex, man. It came with the twin-territory, and this time it brought a moment of panic as Karen’s brow dropped stormily and her fists found her hips.

“Where the hell have you been? We’ve been calling you all morning?” she demanded.

Mike’s palms started sweating.

Did Karen? Not? Recognize him?

Had he misread this whole love affair? Or maybe it was the daylight that was confusing her?

It had to be the daylight, right?

“Matt,” Karen said, irate as could be in that pretty blue and white top. “Don’t just stand there. Say something.”

Ahahahahahaha.

Too close. Too much.

“MATT.”

Out we go, back to the hovel from which we came.

  ---

He breathed out hard in the street below and turned back to look up at the window of Nelson & Murdock. It was flung open and he didn’t give Karen the opportunity to get her nose out of it. He hurried off into the crowd, ducking and squirming until he was sure that he was good and gone from sight.

Then he found an alley to clutch at his heart in.

It had been years since someone had called him Matt. Sometimes he took the name on as a false one, when working for especially shitty shit-heads. But Karen??

Mike was positive he’d introduced himself as Mike. ‘Michael’ but more like Costello than Abbott, he’d said. Karen had laughed.

What the fuck, man? What the fuck?

He looked at the flowers in his hand.

A waste.

Hhhng. Alright, well. There was for sure to be someone needing cheering up at a bar somewhere. Might as well spare them for the Singles Awareness Gigs sure to be happening soon.

  ---

He ended up at Josie’s because he always ended up at Josie’s, but this time with barely anyone in the place at 3pm on Valentine’s Day, she actually noticed him and gave him an eyebrow. He chose to ignore it in order to wallow in self-pity and raised his glass to his lips.

It didn’t make it.

He stared in stunned silence at the hand suddenly covering his glass.

“I don’t think that’s a wise idea, pal,” Josie said.

Mike gaped at her in shock.

“I? Paid for this?” he said.

There was a long moment of awkward silence.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry,” Josie said. “My bad. I thought you were someone else.”

Someone else?

Someone—

WAIT.

“Someone else? Does someone who looks like me come here?” Mike blurted out with zero grace before he could stop himself. “Does he—do you know his name? Is he—does he—”

Josie frowned hard at him.

“You’re not Matt,” she said after a long moment. “I always thought you were Matt.”

Matt!!

Matty!! MATT. You little shit. You perfect, darling, little shit. Out here, comin’ to Josie’s like a chump—possible alcoholic Matt!

Okay, wait, roll that one back—one problem at a time.

“He’s my brother. I’ve been looking for him for eighteen years, we were separated in foster care—do you know where he lives?” Mike asked with no filter to be seen for miles.

Was it professional of him?

No.

But were hugs at airports ever professional? Exactly. Get off his case.

He beamed wide at Josie, but her face did not reciprocate the gesture. Actually, it seemed to be doing the opposite and that made this little squirming feeling start up in Mike’s gut.

“Christ,” Josie said. “I’m so sorry, man.”

Wh-what?

“You’re gonna need a double.”

What did that mean?

“Take this.”

No. No, what did that mean?

“Take the shot, kid. Trust me. You’re gonna need it.”

  ---

No.

Just.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

Josie rubbed her fingernails against her cheek and sighed.

“His owner brings him along,” she said. “Lets him work at their law firm with him—he’s made the papers, sure, but you know. It’s all kind of colored by the fact that he can’t really do shit without permission.”

Mike rolled the tumbler in his hand around.

Nelson, eh? So called ‘owner’ of the android called Matthew Michael Murdock.

Ahahahaha.

Get ready to die, motherfucker.

“But he tries to drink—Matt does,” Mike felt himself say.

Josie didn’t want to look at him.

“Sometimes, it’s like he forgets he’s a droid,” she said. “Usually, he’s got someone with him to keep him out of trouble.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Josie said. “It’s a load of bull.”

FUCK.

He set the tumbler down.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

“It’s on the house,” Josie said. “Best of luck.”

Yeah.

Thanks.

  ---

Matty was—

Matty was—

Mike made it back to his hotel room before sinking to his knees by the bed. God had never heeded his prayers before, but things were different now.

Matty couldn’t pray for the both of them anymore. He was—He was--

Mike had to—

God, please.

Please. Give him back. What once was lost had to be found.

What once was lost, God.

Mike had lost him.

He’d lost him forever.

Give him back.

 ---

 He typed Matt’s name into the search engine on his phone and made it through one whole article before he was kneeling before a much harder, much more porcelain altar.

He tried again in the bathroom this time, sat on the floor with his back against the tub.

The bot that someone had made out of Matty looked so sweet. Like Mike, but softer in the cheeks. Younger. Forever 22 or something close to it.

He was still blind, despite all his other modifications and he was a little famous in the field of robotics. Not that the bot appeared to care. The articles claimed that the bot had recovered and retained memories prior to what they kept calling his ‘transition.’

What they meant was when he’d been transformed into a human weapon. An inhuman weapon.

Matty, I’m so sorry.

 ---

 There was only so much self-pity a man could wallow in before his ass started to fall asleep. But more than that, Mike was a Murdock. The tingling in his limbs was lost to the ever-increasing roar of fire in his ears.

That bastard. That bastard lawyer.

Taking Matt after everything he’d been through and turning him into some prop to be used as a showpiece in a grand legal theatre.

Fuck no. Fuck that.

Mike wasn’t fucking this up twice.

 ---

 Nelson & Murdock was closed by the time Mike once again found himself outside its doors. He stared at the sign’s heavy black letters and gave in to the devil raging, hot, underneath the skin of his chest.

He left the shattered doorglass on the ground as he made his way to the opposite stairwell.

 ---

 Karen.

  ---

She lived nearby 9th and 52nd. She was probably going home to her handsome hubby, who’d shower her in chocolate and wine and flowers. But on the way, she’d make a stop. She was a working gal. She wouldn’t have had time to pick up a gift in return before her shift started.

Mike found her at Walgreens, talking on the phone to someone while she petted every teddy bear on the rack in front of her.

He didn’t feel sorry.

She didn’t scream when his hand found her face. He didn’t give her the chance.

  ---

He ditched the hat in the back storeroom of Walgreens and took Karen right through to the loading dock. She thrashed hard.

Mike could barely feel the movement. He was on the lookout for eyes.

An elbow found his ribs and a foot his toes before he got them far enough from view that he could let her go to readjust his grip, and when he did, he got her against a wall, panting.

This lady was tough. But in a flash, she mouth dropped open and her wrists went limp in his grip.

“Mike?” she asked after a second. “Is that you? What are you doing here? Why are you—”

“Where. Is. My brother?” Mike cut her off.

Karen recoiled until her head hit the bricks behind her.

“Your—”

“My brother Matthew,” Mike snapped.

The rush of traffic settled into the silence.

“Oh my god,” Karen whispered. “He’s your brother?”

“Yes. He is, as a matter of fact, and whatever you think you’re doing to him, I will do to you and that fucking lawyer ten times worse,” Mike said. “So you’re going to help me or I’m going to—”

“I knew I knew you.”

He felt himself go stiff.

“Matt talks like you,” Karen said softly. “Just like you.”

Wh—he did?

Karen’s fingers brushed the tops of Mike’s hands. They were cold.

“Mike,” she whispered, sounding for all the world like she was on the verge of tears, “He’s going to be so happy to see you.”

Wh—she’d—she’d take him to Matt?

“Of course,” Karen said. “He’s one of my best friends.”

They were friends? How were they friends? Was this a sick joke?

“No. It’s not. I met him years ago it’s just—I didn’t realize you were—okay, there’s just one problem,” Karen said.

 ---

 Uh?

“Sensory input! Greater than! Processing—PROCESSING—processing—”

“Matty,” Franklin Nelson said with both of his hands out in front of him. “I see that we are very excited.”

“SENSORY INPUT—”

“And I love your enthusiasm, and I know you love your enthusiasm,” Nelson continued. “But if you don’t settle down the tiniest fraction of an inch, you’re going to blow a fuse and—”

“SEN—sen-S-S-SEN—”

Uh?

“This is excited,” Karen explained while Nelson wrestled Matt into sitting for the second time since Mike had arrived at the door.

This was excited?

“He’s normally much more in tune with himself,” Karen said. “But I think you’ve jumpstarted some shit that even his additional processing power isn’t enough for.”

Additional what now?

“It’s a long story,” Karen said over the saddest sound that Mike had ever heard.

They both looked over to where Nelson had successfully gotten Matt back to sitting and was now coaching him through whatever the bot-equivalent of breathing exercises were.

“How long?” Mike asked.

Karen’s blue eyes pitied him.

 ---

 Okay, okay, okay. So. Nelson? Not a threat. Definitely a boon.

Matty?

Hng.

Heavy.

“I’ve literally never seen him this excited,” Nelson said. “And I’ve known him for seven years.”

No shit?

“No shit, we met at Columbia,” Nelson sighed. “I’m sorry about this.”

It was fine. Mike deserved this. Probably.

Jesus, what the fuck had they replaced Matt’s muscle’s with? How was he this warm and this heavy and not human all at the same time.

He’d seemed to have decided that Mike needed a full-body hug and while the first ten seconds had been cry-worthy, the last minute or so was getting a little suffocating.

“Matt, let him go,” Nelson pleaded. “He can’t breathe, bud. He’s gotta breathe, he’s not like you—”

“Subject: Mike. Michael Murdock,” Matt said brightly, scrambling off Mike out of no-fucking-where and getting way too far into Nelson’s face.

“Mike, yeah, you said,” Nelson said.

“Mike. Born October 21—”

“I get it. He’s your twin.”

“—at Metropolitan General Hospital at 11:32pm—”

“Matt,  you’re info-dumping friend, we don’t need this. We believe you. Don’t give me his social. Don’t—”

“—Social Security number 6—”

“MATT. End request. End search term. Exit page.”

Uh?

“He did this with the DA last week when he got too riled up,” Karen said sympathetically. “We have no clue where he finds it or better yet, where he even stores it.”

“—my brother, FOGGY.”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ see it, man. It’s before mine very own eyes. Y’all are identical. It’s weird.”

“I missed him.”

“Tell that to him then. Stop touching me, ew. No. Go douse him with your weird fuckin’ eye fluid—atta boy, good job—NO. NO CLIMBING.”

Mike…was not prepared for the care and keeping of Bot-Matt. He had to admit that now. All those plans of snatching Matt out of the hands of these evil, evil people were breaking up into little fragments of puzzle pieces and he’d never felt more like shit because god.

He was supposed to look after his brother, wasn’t he?

Wasn’t he?

“I’m so sorry about this,” Franklin Nelson said with Matt leaning almost completely out of his grip and making that horrible sad noise again. “But I think I’m gonna need to cool him down a bit.”

 ---

 Mike couldn’t stop rubbing at his face.

Matt was sprawled out across Nelson’s bed like he was sleeping in the sunlight. The wires plugged into the back of his neck slipped off the edge of the bed and led all the way to a laptop that was just about sweating with how hard it was working.

From the side, it looked like he was human. Absolutely, unequivocally human.

Younger than Mike now, though. Permanently halted at 24 years old. No wonder Karen hadn’t recognized Mike early on. Matty’s jaw was still slim where Mike’s had hardened square like Dad’s. The only facial hair he had was in his eyebrows and eyelashes—there was no reason to add stubble to a bot. It was just more maintenance. Just another aesthetic modification.

“I’m sorry, Mike.”

Mike turned to Nelson.

He didn’t look or talk like a single one of the bot traffickers than Mike had dragged in from the cold—and he’d done the full range of them, from the cackling madhatters to the cooing, babytalkers to the silent so-called geniuses. Nelson exhibited only exasperation.

The story that Karen told about his and her early encounters with Matt made it seem like Nelson honestly considered Matt to be human, like him. Like all of them.

“You helped him,” Mike said quietly.

“If I’d have known that he had you, then I would have helped him find you sooner,” Nelson said. “But I thought he was on his own. He never mentioned anyone else. I should have asked.”

No. No, that was—That was okay, somehow.

“We got separated a lifetime ago,” Mike said. “People thought that I’d be easier to adopt. And clearly he had other things going on.”

Nelson winced.

“That’s shit,” he said.

“And wrong,” Mike sighed. “I don’t even know what to do now. I can’t take care of him like this. I don’t know the first thing about droid maintenance or computers.”

Nelson considered him.

“Well, the good news is that you don’t have to—take care of him, I mean,” he said. “Matt takes care of himself. He’s actually really good at it when he’s not blowin’ his top about some damn thing. You’ll see when he wakes up. And on top of that, he’s already got a mechanic, so when something goes wrong that he can’t fix, we take him to Parker and he does the heavy lifting there.”

Mike swallowed.

“You guys really have it worked out,” he realized.

Nelson sighed.

“Like I said. I’ve known him for seven years. We’ve lived together ever since.”

Woah. Wait. What now?

Nelson turned exhausted eyes onto him.

“I co-signed for his loft, but he just comes and spends all his time here when he’s not out smashing faces. Claims my bed. Steals all the sun spots. Makes me only shit coffee in return.”

He—Matt—Matt had his own apartment? He could do that?

“Sure? Why not? He owns half the firm, too,” Nelson said. “I mean, they wouldn’t let me put it in his name, technically. So it’s through a wildly complicated, uh—let’s call it a ‘thing’ for simplicity’s sake. But yeah. If anything happens to me, full ownership goes to him. But as far as we’re concerned, it’s half and half. The only thing Matt can’t do is practice law on his own, so we have to double-team pretty much every case.”

Mike needed to sit down.

“Oh, for sure. Just not there. I’d recommend out of range, here. Sit here,” Nelson said.

 ---

 Matt woke up when Karen snuck around the bed to remove the wires from his neck. He scrambled up and fell right over the side of the bed onto Karen’s feet.

She swore. He groaned. Nelson pointedly did not come back into the room.

This time, though, when Matt got back up, Karen pulled him in the direction of Mike and took his wrist. She held out a hand for Mike.

Mike’s heart fluttered.

He gave it to her and Karen put his hand directly in Matt’s palm.

There was silence.

“Mikey,” Matt said after a long moment.

Mike’s eyes started burning.

“You came for me,” Matt said.

Mike couldn’t make his throat work. It took two goes to find his voice.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “I sure did.”

“You ain’t singin’, though,” Matt pointed out. “Why aren’t you singin’?”

Because he was cryin’, man. God, give a guy a break.

“Matty, what did they do to you?” he asked.

Matt made a strange sound as he mulled over the question. A kind of whirring noise.

“Made me into a droid, dumbass,” he said.

Mike laughed before he could stop himself.

“Can I have a non-lethal hug?” he asked.

Matt whirred.

“No promises,” he said.

 ----

[spiffyspuffy]

My Mystic Messenger Opinions

(That no one asked for)

Zen

Character: 8/10 I know a lot of people think Zens annoying but I find him endearing. One of the best things about this game is the complexity of the characters and I love that Zen’s cockiness is actually how he hides his insecurities. Even though he’s egotistical about himself, he’s never shallow with MC. He says multiple times that he doesn’t care about MC’s looks. He loves her for who she is and shows this in how he makes an effort to get to know her and be her cheerleader everyday. An underrated thing about Zen is how emotionally intelligent he is. He’s great at helping the RFA members when they need emotional support (Yoosung’s grief over loosing Rika, Jaehee crying from the stress of her job and MC’s shock at almost being kidnapped). 

Route: 2/10 Zen is a great character and he deserves a better route. The false rape accusation plot is horrible and offensive. Also, his route functions as an introduction to the game’s plot, so it’s exposition heavy and lacks action. The creators said that the lesson of his route is that when our insecurities are handled in a healthy way, they can push us to be better people. I love this message and I wish it had been highlighted more in his route.

Romantic Potential: 9/10 Zen is arguably the most dateable of all the characters. He’s a bad boy without being sketchy. He’s protective without being possessive. He’s kind without being a pushover and he’s smart without being pretentious. His biggest drawbacks are his overconfidence and and how busy he is with working. There aren’t any glaring red flags. 

~ More under the cut ~ 

Jeahee

Character: 7/10 I love this adorable theater nerd! She comes across as formal and stuffy at first, but reveals herself to be passionate and funny the more you get to know her. I gave her a lower score because she does have a strong personality that rubs me the wrong way sometimes (her jealousy of MC in Zen’s route, her lack of sympathy towards Jumin in her own route and her general rudeness towards Yoosung). She is the most mature of the RFA though, so her exasperation is warranted. Being mature and grounded also makes Jaehee the least complex Mysme character. I’ve got a lot of respect for her though!

Route: 5/10 Getting to engage in discourse about capitalism and the patriarchy? Amazing and hands down the best part of her route. It’s really inspiring to see Jaehee stand up for herself and choose to follow her dreams. I think it’s important for every young person to hear that they should have a positive work/life balance and demand that their employer supports that. Other highlights are Seven helping Jaehee by making the Power Point presentation for Jumin’s cat project, getting to fangirl with Jaehee over Zen and the creepy stalker plot. I thoroughly enjoy her route and the only reason the score is so low is because some of the other routes are seriously incredible.

Romantic Potential: 8/10 Jeahee doesn’t have any red flags either. I think she’s perfectly capable of having a healthy, romantic relationship with MC. The biggest issue standing in their way is Korea’s bias against lesbian relationships. As a fellow coffee lover and theater enthusiast though, I could definitely see myself or someone similar having a happy life with her, even if it might have to be in secret.

Yoosung

Character: 6/10 I can’t stand people who aren’t competent. Yoosung is a terrible cook, he barely cleans and he doesn’t pay attention to his studies. On top of that, 80% of his personality is that he’s a gamer AND he’s in love with his “dead” adopted cousin. Yuck. ~ But ~ I understand that he’s depressed and depression can seriously effect someone’s executive functioning. Taking all of those negatives away, we’re left with a young man who’s trying to his best to be taken seriously, which is something I can relate to. It’s nice to see imposter syndrome represented and I admire his loyalty to his friends. 

Route: 8/10 This route is sooo good! Who can forget the night when the RFA starts being aggressively stalked by Minty Eye? And the pic Zen takes of a believer looking at him through his apartment window...chills. His route only gets better from there when he infiltrates Mint Eye with Seven. This is the first time we get to see the twins interact and damn, is it confusing. But in a good way!!   The biggest drawback is that MC is stuck in Rika’s apartment and doesn’t play much of an active role in the story. 

Romantic Potential: 7/10 Despite all the negatives I listed about Yoosung, I do think he’s capable of have a healthy, romantic relationship with MC. Yoosung is also the only true sub of the RFA men, which is a definite plus for some players. Yoosung’s yandere side is a huge red flag though. MC better watch out if she doesn’t dote on him as much as he wants. Once he falls for her, he’s all in. 

Jumin

Character: 5/10 Unpopular opinion, but I hate Jumin. I understand that he’s some people’s guilty pleasure though. Jumin’s good aspects are that he’s intensely loyal, an animal lover and has a dry sense of humor. I appreciate how devoted he is to the RFA and it’s members. He offers to help Zen multiple times (albeit rejected), sends everyone body guards in his route and pays the hospital in the SE to keep Saeran’s identity top secret. What I’m not a fan of is the way he obsesses over MC and traps her in his house. This isn’t the first time he’s shown obsessive tendencies either. Seven explicitly states that Jumin acted this way with Rika in the past. Huuuge red flag.  

Route: 3/10 His entire route is fraught with rich people problems. I’m supposed to sympathize with him for an arranged marriage? All he had to do was say no. His father couldn’t force him. He’s possessive of MC because women have only ever wanted to be with him for his money? Not an excuse. Elizabeth going missing was a vaguely interesting story line, but Jumin’s relationship with his cat was cringey enough to overshadow the drama of it for me.

Romantic Potential: 3/10 Jumin has some serious issues. He’s never had a good female role model which has given him a deep seeded hatred of women. Remember when he tells MC that respecting women goes against his core beliefs? Yikes. Then, after meeting a woman who respects him and he actually likes, he locks her up and tries to change everything about her (cutting her hair, buying her a new wardrobe, teaching her the ‘proper’ way to walk, etc). We’re supposed to believe Jumin learns to be better by the end of his route, but he still proposes to MC after only a week of knowing her! I’m having a hard time picturing Jumin in a healthy relationship. 

Saeyoung

Character: 10/10 I’m not saying Saeyoung is a good person. Far from it actually. But he IS very well written and extremely interesting. In the other routes, Saeyoung is energetic and funny, bringing much needed humor to heavy moments. It’s always a joy being in a chatroom with him. Then you have the reveal that he actually hates his job and that he was faking his personality, all to a sad and slowed down version of his theme song. This plot twist shook me to my core. What makes him so well written is that the devs did a good job dropping hints to his real personality in the other routes that players might not notice during their first play through. 

Route: 9/10 This route is a wild ride from start to finish. This is when the plot threads from the other routes come together and start make sense. This route has secret agents, assassins, a deadly bomb, kidnapping, an evil twin, a powerful cult... It’s action heavy while still carrying enough emotional weight to make me cry every time. Saeyoung’s route is heavy and emotional and sooo worth playing. 

Romantic Potential: 6/10 Saeyoung has a shady job and a complicated past. Choosing to be with him means putting your life in danger every day. If you’re okay with that, he’d be a decent romantic partner. He’s a little rough around the edges, but I do think he has potential to become more like his ideal self (God Seven) after reading his AE. He’ll always have that mean and serious side to him, but I don’t think he’s hopeless. 

V

Character: 4/10 He’s low-key the worst. I sympathize with his trauma from being abused by Rika, but I don’t understand why he feels the need to fix everything by himself. Rika might be the source of most problems in this game, but V is partially responsible for standing by and letting her get away with everything. 

My first issue with him comes from encouraging Saeyoung to join the agency. I know Saeyoung didn’t have many options, but how was encouraging him to train to become a hacker and assassin the best option?! On top of that, he stalked Zen per Rika’s request and took creeper photos of him, failed miserably at protecting Saeran and don’t get me started on how he loves Rika unconditionally. V has some good characteristics but I really don’t care about those when he’s so terrible otherwise. 

Route: 10/10 This route is *chef’s kiss* the BEST. I wouldn’t call it a romance since Vs barely in it but damn is it riveting. Saeran is the perfect amount of loving and unhinged, MC get’s to know Rika on a personal level and V finally gets to be active instead of just reactive like he is in all the other routes. It’s also  satisfying to find out how much V has been keeping secret and to get a glimpse into Rika’s psyche. But what really makes V’s route stand out among the rest is that there are spy action scenes like in Saeyoung’s route, but the player also gets to spend time in Mint Eye.

Romantic Potential: 7/10 I’ll be honest. I don’t think V will ever be able to move on from Rika. He’ll always love her, as evidence in his AE. Besides that drawback, I do think he’d be a good romantic partner for MC. V was never the issue in his past relationship with Rika. She was the abusive one and he was 100% the victim. I think he would treat MC just as well in their relationship as he treated Rika. 

Saeran

Character: 7/10 I know I’m not the only one who loved the suave and cunning Saeran of the main routes who, after getting the therapy he needed, became an adorably shy and awkward man. Sadly, that’s not the character we got in AS. Instead, we met Ray, the split personality of Saeran’s psyche. Ray is charming and sweet as well as possessive and manipulative...which is something I’m into. But it’s not for everyone. Saeran’s real personality in AS is revealed to be angry and abusive and not at all similar to who he was in the main routes. I’ll give Cheritz props for writing a fairly accurate portrayal of disassociative identity disorder, but I think Saeran’s characterization is inconsistent. I get the impression Ray was an afterthought when creating AS. 

Route: 7/10 A mixed bag for me. I really enjoy any chatroom/scene with Ray. He’s undeniably creepy, but those scenes were entertaining in a dark romance kind of way. On the other hand, the Saeran scenes had a lot of unrealized potential. Abuse is never cool. All his route needed to fix this was a scene where Saeran explained to MC that he was pretending to hate her to appease Rika and the other believers. While this fake hatred is implied, I think it needed to be outright stated. It’s also hard to believe that Saeran overcame his DID in the course of one night. I know all routes are limited to 11 days, but this one needed more. Highlights of this route are Saeyoung being kidnapped by his father and of course, dark Yoosung with Elizabun. 

Romantic Potential: 7/10 I truly do believe that Saeran could go on and live a happy life in any of the endings where he escapes Mint Eye and receives therapy. While we only get a glimpse of what an emotionally stable Searan looks like, we know that he was kind and attentive with MC. Saeran is a giver and would do anything to make MC happy. Red flags are that Searan is still clingy at the end of his route. Yoosung makes a comment that he’s always holding MC’s hand when he sees them together. Also, his DID is something that will occasionally return and that’s something MC has to go into their relationship knowing. 

[glacierbash]

i heard something about a lesbian undead cleric 👀

YOU HEARD RIGHT OKAY

uhh if you're a player in the direlight campaign do not read under the read more unless you're the dm in which case. ya know. hi josh

warning it accidentally got long and rambly Whoops

SOOOO okay my girl my undead lesbian where do weee begin

here's a picture I've just finished of her because I wanted to test out a solid line style and i went too far AND I JUST REALIZED I FORGOT TO SHADE THE GOLD ON HERRRRRR

so her name is! Adr Irithyl! She's a Shadar-Kai (bodied) twilight cleric who worships the Raven Queen (who in the world is called Selyn). Before dying and her subsequent revival, Adr was one of many nuns who served to help souls pass on to Selyn, so that the Raven Queen could collect them and sort them. Adr specialized in children (which ALWAYS sounds weird), helping them with a soothing darkness that followed her wherever she walked. She would sit beside them, listening to children tell stories, letting them talk and talk until their lives would end, and she'd usher the spirits back. Specifically twilight, she used the dark as a blanket, blinding the children to what was to happen.

But, one of the children she was around ended up getting her ill. She was only ~150-200 when she passed, refusing to let the others heal her at risk of getting them sick. The only one she allowed was her closest "friend" among those in her specific order, telling her "I do not want my life to go to waste. Use my body as a sign that death is to be welcomed, and not feared, and that reversing it isn't the answer."

And then she died, peacefully, after an agonizing couple weeks of struggling with an illness foreign to her body. She's from the Shadowfell, she's not used to the Material Plane. She passed, and so too did 500 years. Empires rose and empires fell. People lived and she was remembered by her Sisters.

Until she wakes up, 500 years in the future, her body a stitched up, mangled mess, surrounded by corpses of other clerics like her, with no recollection of who she even was. She lays there for over a week, just... Noticing. "I should be starving by now. I should be dehydrated by now. Breathing hurts. I can't sleep."

When she finally moves, she just... Keeps seeing the bodies. Pieces of the bodies, sometimes just skin, sometimes their entire limbs. One of her arms was too long. One had a hand with only three fingers. The stitches on her body hurt, and she was covered with arcane markings she couldn't wash off. Memories would... Sometimes hit her, the strongest being this one woman flashing a smile and offering her...

She could never remember the word. it was warmed bread with some spread on it, but the specifics, she couldn't remember. It frustrated her. It frustrated her so much she went to destroy the entire ruins and kill herself.

When she found a note, on the altar where she had been. It was in a language she couldn't read. And... It called to her. As if it would be an answer to who did this. So, rather than kill herself and return to Selyn, she lead the nunnery, left her sisters, with the strange feeling that she wasn't entirely alone, that no matter where she went, bits of those ripped apart to form her would follow, everywhere she went.

Eventually, she found a town, where a person named Henris eventually befriended her, and she stopped her quest for revenge to work as a researcher in a school of Clerichood, which is where the party will meet her!

The Lesbianism:tm: will be something she realizes throughout the story, as she recalls memories of her "dear friend." They were very much in love, but their devotion and dedication (and Adr being... Scared of that aspect of her) meant that they never grew closer than friends. But without those obligations, without that... Goal? Adr doesn't feel that same "moral" obligation to remain celibate and pure and focused on her prayers. In fact, she can barely even remember the prayers she used to say, relying on an old prayer book found on a body of her sisters.

Originally, Adr had been a soft and kind woman who would give up everything to help others, but now? With the knowledge that, surely, in the eyes of her goddess she's an abomination (a theme among my elf clerics actually, undead clerics who think their gods see them as a monster that sends them hardships to get them killed), she doesn't care. She doesn't care about being soft and nice. She doesn't care about pacifism. She doesn't want to hurt people, but if she saw the man that brought her back and to get him, she'd have to kill one of her party members?

At the moment, I don't think I can say she'd wait.

She's not meant to be some overly grimdark, "oh boo-hoo" character, she literally talks like Miette the cat, regularly tries to eat food that she physically can't since she lacks a stomach, is going to be calling one of the characters "Sea salt" because they're a sea elf (granted they deserve it SMH Cancel Sea salt the Bloodhunter 2021 /j), but... She has that part of her. The fact that she never asked to be alive. The fact that she views death as a mercy. The fact that once her goal is complete, she will kill herself without any hesitation for fear of growing too attached to life.

and yeah im going to give her the comphet I struggled with for years because IT'S MY CHARACTER AND I CAN PROJECT THE STRUGGLES

but all the negative aside she does still adore kids and wears a raven mask (see above) to hide her face so that kids don't think she's scary, she'll give kids rides on her shoulders because she's over 7 feet tall, she'll sit with you all night if you have a bad dream (UNLESS YOU'RE SRIGRALT FUCK YOU SRIGRALT /J), she'll even grant you dark vision if you need it because even if the dark is peaceful to her, it isn't that way for everybody.

But, I haven't even played her yet! I'm switching out my genasi monk for her, and I'm. really excited. Adr is so much more interesting to me because while I made my genasi a really femme woman, I can do! So Much more with Adr! AND I just love playing cleric, like. Hitting inflict wounds on the final boss? MWAH that was a magical moment with my other cleric, and since we don't have dedicated support... I'm not complaining about pulling her out ;)

ANYWAYS thank you for asking me abt her Morgan i have thunked about her a lot, expect an ask abt your githzerai cleric soon because dnd characters are <3

[dnfisgay]

Mr. Loverman - Chapter 1

a/n: hey! welcome to my first fic on here! i kinda feel like i’m back in freshman year writing youtube rpf but hey! we’re all regressing anyway aren’t we? this is a dreamnotfound fic based on the online personas of georgenotfound and dream. this is in no way meant to pressure them or their relationship, and if either of them say they’re uncomfortable with fanfiction i’ll take this down! but anyway at the beginning of every chapter there will be a content warning section and a summary if needed, or if any plot altering events happen during the possibly triggering sections. i hope y’all enjoy Mr. Loverman, a fic based on the song by Ricky Montgomery. 

THIS IS MY OWN WORK. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER BLOGS/SITES WITHOUT PERMISSION. DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN. 

Prologue 

Sometimes, a simple decision is what changes your life the most. Sometimes, a tragedy is a blessing in disguise. Not always, but enough of the time for a few lucky people to benefit. We were some of those people. A simple decision changed... everything. Everyone. Changed me, changed him. Sometimes, we regret those decisions. Other times, they’re the best thing that’s ever happened. We made history together. We made our own history. We changed ourselves for the better. Part of it was born of tragedy, of pain and suffering, of wrong-place-wrong-time. But after, we were born anew. A butterfly emerging from fog. 

The rainbow after a storm. A soft mist at the edge of a violent fall. Our own little refuge within the storm. We made history together, you and me. 

“I've shattered now, I'm spilling out Upon this linoleum ground  I'm reeling in my brain again Before it can get back to you  Oh, what am I supposed to do without you?”

Content Warnings: none 

Word count: 1,520

Chapter One - A New Chapter Of Us

“What if we moved in together?”

George laughed. 

‘What? You’re joking.”

“No! I’m totally serious!” Dream said, laying on his bed. “Think about it. You could get a work visa, come live with me, and we can make videos together! Like vlogs and stuff! You can get away from your family, and I… well I get you! It’s obviously a win-win situation.”

“Vlogs? You don’t even show your face.”

“Oh… yeah. Well, whatever! I’ll do a face reveal. Please, George!”

George’s hesitance showed, making Dream bounce on his knees on the bed, literally begging him.

“Please George! Please!” he laughed, waiting for him to agree. George stayed silent, trying to hide his smile.

“I guess you don’t love me then… oh bother,” Dream fake pouted at him, pretending to cry, rubbing his eyes to make them red. He couldn’t hide the smile in his voice.

“Okay, alright, you wore me down,” George said. “Looks like I’m going to Florida!” 

---

It’d been three months since Dream asked George to move in with him, and every day he’d sent him pictures of their place. Their place. He doesn’t know why that made him so happy to hear, especially coming from Dream. When he showed George the lounge and texted him “our living room :D,”  he felt like his whole entire body was lit ablaze. Like a firework on the Fourth of July -- how American of you already, George, he could hear Dream’s voice saying. It felt like when his first girlfriend told him I love you for the first time. Except... not that. Obviously not that. 

And the day was finally here, after waiting for the visa to get approved, and video chats, and seeing only pictures, it was finally going to be their place. Dream and George’s place. There would be no more lagging video or Discord crashing on them. If the internet went out, he’d still be in the next room over. He’d still be his.

Well, not his. But he’d be there. George felt the need to explain himself even in his own head.

The sound of Dream’s Discord ringer cut through his thoughts, too loud for his own good. He stretched over to his desk and answered, turning his camera on too. 

“Georgie!” Dream said, bouncing with excitement. “Guess what tomorrow is, Georgie.” He leaned forward on his desk, wiggling his eyebrows at George. 

George feigned confusion. “I don’t know, Dream. What’s tomorrow?”

Dream pouted. “Are you being serious right now? Do you really not remember?”

“Dream! I’m literally packing right now!”

“I’m litch-rally packing right now!” Dream mocked, impersonating George’s British accent. George stared him down while Dream was folded over laughing. 

“It’s not too late for me to change my mind, you know.”

“Actually, it is. Work visas have to be used or you’ll get a fine,” Dream said, chewing loudly on what looked like — popcorn? God, Americans were weird. 

“Is that actually true or did you just make that up so I have no choice but to come?” 

Dream looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “...Maybe.” George laughed silently, smiling to himself. He would never say it out loud, but he loved Dream. He didn’t know what made him keep it to himself when Dream all but shouted it from the rooftops, but something inside of him felt it was too real to be said. Dream knew it was true, and that was good enough, right? 

“Did you want to watch me pack?” George said, folding another one of his shirts and placing it in the box. Dream wasn’t paying attention. He was messing with something on his desk, his tongue sticking out and his eyebrows furrowed so tightly you could barely see his eyes. George loved his eyes, they were a warm pale green color that fit him perfectly. George snapped his fingers at Dream and asked if he was listening. 

“Huh? Oh. No. I’m sorry,” Dream looked sheepish, worried. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to, I just zone out sometimes, I’m really sorr—“ 

“Dream, Dream, calm down. It’s okay,” George smiled. “I’m not mad. Did you want me to ask the question again?”

“Please.”

“I asked if you wanted to watch me pack,” he asked, knowing which answer he hoped for. 

“Ooh, can I stay on?” Dream looked giddy as he asked. “I wanna tell you about my new bedwars record.”

“Sounds perfect, Dream.” 

---

It took him two more hours to finish packing up his clothes, bathroom necessities, and shoes, spare for the ones he needed on the plane. Dream had talked on and on for the whole two hours, about bedwars and what he was going to make for dinner, and how his mom sent him over homemade banana bread the other day. And even Patches made an appearance after a while. 

“Oh my God, Patches! I get to meet Patches! You know Dream, I’m kind of more excited to meet her than I am you.”

“Haha, very funny,” Dream cooed. “Not like Patches will make you dinner or comfort you when you have nightmares. 

“Nightmares? I do not have nightmares!” George defended, despite the fact he did definitely have nightmares. And he knew Dream knew that, he’d been the one called at 4 in the morning and the one who talked George back to sleep. It was all part of the game, though, the cat and mouse they had going on. He wondered who was the cat and who was the mouse

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Georgie. Oh, wait,” Dream smirked, laughing his ass off. George gasped and tossed his dirty shirt at his webcam, not minding the fact that it was still on his body and that he was now shirtless in his cold room. 

“Hey! I wanna see the view! You look sexy with your hair messed up like that.”

“Haha, very funny,” George fake laughed, though Dream didn’t. He usually laughed after jokes like that. What made this one different? “If I wasn’t so bloody cold right now I’d leave it on there. Make you suffer all alone under there.” He heard Dream whimper, and he didn’t know what it was, but it made his stomach churn. “But, I am very, very freezing right now.”

He pulled the shirt off the webcam, covering his chest with the fabric. “There. You have been freed,” he said, slipping his shirt back on. He swore he saw Dream’s eyes linger on the strip of skin still exposed on his stomach before he pulled it down. 

“I’m gonna go make some dinner,” George said, checking the time on his phone. “What, it’s already 9? Jesus. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go make some cereal real quick, stay on the call.”

George put Dream’s volume loud enough that he could hear it decently from across the flat. Meaning, Dream could also hear him burning himself. 

“Did you just burn yourself? Aren’t you making cereal?” 

“Um…maybe?” he said, shouting over the cold running water. “I may have accidentally left the oven on from when I made salmon last night.”

“Last night?” Dream screamed in horror. “Genuinely, how are you not dead yet?” 

“I don’t know!” he said, wincing and drying off his hand before grabbing his bowl of cereal. Well, it wasn’t a bowl, but a large Tupperware container. 

“Is that Tupperware?” Dream asked as he sat down at his desk. 

“It was the easiest thing to unpack.” 

George ate his cereal in silence for a few minutes, drinking down the last bit of the sugary milk before asking “What were you staring at earlier? When you got distracted.” 

It took Dream a few seconds, but he finally remembered. “Oh! This!” He pulled out a tiny crossbow made of pencils and shot a rubber band at his camera. 

“That’s actually so sick,” George said, staring more intently at his screen to get a closer look. Dream went off on a tangent about it, showing him the mechanics and everything it could shoot. He swore he’d have another one for George by the time he got home. Home. He liked that word coming out of Dream’s mouth. He liked hearing it about himself. 

Eventually, it got too late for George to be up anymore. His flight left in 7 hours and he still needed to pack his PC. Dream pouted when he told him he had to go, but perked back up when he remembered the next time he’d see George, he’d be able to hug him! He was all but forcing his body to get tired after that. 

“Wake me up if you need me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Georgie,” Dream smiled. This time, he didn't sound teasing. He sounded genuine, more genuine than he’d heard in a long time. 

“I… admire you too, Dream.” George’s face went flush and hot, his cheeks blotchy with pink and peach. 

“Psh! When are you ever gonna say it back?” 

“Never, I thought we’d been over this.”

“Mark my words, Georgie. I will get you to say it back sooner or later.”

Yeah, right.

---

a/n: so! that was the first chapter of Mr. Loverman! i’d love any feedback and opinions y’all have! the next chapter should be up in a few days, and i even have art from one of my lovely twitter mutuals coming! i hope everyone enjoyed! :D feel free to reblog<3

Chapter 2 - Linoleum Ground (date TBD)